Love's Intervention
by RakeTheSky
Summary: Magic brought them together, magic brought them apart. When someone special intervenes, will it be enough to convince those unwilling that they were meant to be? PhoebeCole. NEW CHAPTER NOW UP! 10.27.05
1. The Guardian of Love

**Disclaimer**: Let's keep it simple. All these characters? Ain't mine unless I say so. Now on with the show!

**Love's Intervention  
**_**Chapter One: The Guardian of Love  
**_

The man sat in his office and cursed.

This office was different from what one may be used to. His office chair was actually a bed, swathed in soft white comforters, red silk sheets, and numerous plushy pillows. His desk floated twenty inches above the surface of the bed. It had a beautiful mahogany finish, though it was kind of hard to tell, since it was littered by a bunch of yellow manila folders.

The man was sitting up on his bed and had just slammed down a memo that he received. He sighed and shifted through the mess of manila folders. They were all unlabelled, but he seemed to know what he was looking for. It was a while until he found what he was looking for, having been untouched for so long. He opened it and shifted through the papers.

The folders were all dated from most recent events to the earliest events. He looked at the foremost page and curled his lip in disgust. It might have been acceptable under normal circumstances—God knows he's seen worse—but with this particular girl? No. Absolutely not.

He looked at the stats of the front page. BREAK UP, it said at the top in bold letters. Underneath it said:

_Parties Involved_: Phoebe Halliwell and Jason Dean  
_Date:_ May 24th, 2004 AD  
_Time:_ 17:42:17  
_Place:_ ...

Cupid rolled his eyes and looked deeper into the packet. Of course they would break up. Simply because it was not meant to be. Why they had to go such lengths to reach it was beyond him. Oh, he may be Cupid, guardian angel of love (and of "like", like _like_, crushes, and such), but it didn't mean he completely understood it. Just more than anybody else, which was quite an accomplishment by itself.

He looked at the page he had stopped on. FIRST DATE, the title screamed.

_Parties Involved:_ Phoebe Halliwell and David Hernandez  
_Date:_ January 9th, 1996 AD

He stopped and backtracked a little bit. A little too further back...then again, it was hard with Phoebe's file. So thick with all her random flings from her New York days. He flipped some more and hit upon his target.

FIRST KISS

_Parties Involved:_ Phoebe Halliwell and Cole Turner  
_Date:_ November 10th, 2000 AD  
_Time:_ 22:55:38  
_Place:_ P3, San Francisco, CA, USA  
_Duration:_ 46.3 seconds

Cupid read no more and closed his eyes, his fingers slightly curled on the data sheet, as if he was trying to absorb the past event into his body. There really was no need. He remembered it as well as ever, since he was watching them from his bird-eyed perch while it happened. The intensity, the attraction was better than he could ever hope to plan. He sighed and opened his eyes reluctantly. It was so perfect...and then it was ruined.

He shook his head and looked at the paper with mournful eyes. They had denied their birth and familial calling, had stayed together because they loved each other unconditionally and didn't take crap from others who wouldn't accept it. They had both clung on to each other, were each other's anchors, because they were each other's soul mates. And then Phoebe had let go.

He closed the yellow manila folder and stared at its front. He waved his hand over it, and an image of Phoebe appeared on it, tossing and turning in her bed. Cupid glanced at her for a second, then reached over and picked up the small memo again. _Halliwell, Ph #43AAPa&: issues Turner, C/Belth_, it simply read. Not very eloquent, maybe, but he had gotten used to this type of shorthand some many centuries past. He looked at the image of Phoebe again, who had now buried her face in her pillow. How can someone so smart be so stupidly in denial? Cupid mused. And for such a long time, too?

Something akin to anger flickered within the heart of the Guardian of Love. It was not fair! He thought to himself. All his best couples never got what they wanted, and so desperately needed. Anthony and Cleopatra, Dido and Aeneas...

"Oh no, but Aeneas had to go and found Rome," Cupid muttered to himself in a mocking tone. But this! This was just too much. The tragedy, the love, the despair, the physics, they all molded and became something wonderful. That is, until Phoebe lost her wits and decided it wasn't worth it. Phoebe! The last woman in the world he would wish something so tragic to happen to. After all, she did save his existence a couple of years back.

Cupid touched a few seemingly random spots on the cover of the folder. A voice suddenly filtered into his ears. Phoebe's thoughts.

Phoebe grunted and turned on her side for the thousandth time that night. She knew she should be asleep. Elise was not going to be a happy camper if Phoebe straggled in late the next morning from lack of rest. She knew that she should've expected it, given that she had broken up with Jason just the day before—but that was the thing. The break up with her boyfriend of sixteen months should be the reason for her insomnia, but it wasn't. The reason

Phoebe groaned inwardly and ran a hand through her short hair. She really was not doing Jason any justice by thinking about her demon ex. Now was not the time to think about Cole. Actually, there was never a time to think about Cole. Not anymore. That was definitely a part of her past, a part she would like to file away and never look at again. That man, demon, whatever, he had betrayed her one too many times.

Yet even as she thought this, soft images began to float into her mind. His touch on her body, his laugh, his endearing overprotection of her...stop it, she ordered herself. _Stop it._ That was why she could never think about Cole. Because, try as she might, she couldn't think of him as the evil and dangerous being that she knew he was for long. Her thoughts would drift to the man, the man whom she had married because she thought that their love would conquer all.

So she tried to think about Jason Dean instead. Their breakup. _It only made sense_, she thought with conviction. With all his traveling, and her confined to wherever her sisters are, they just couldn't continue. But Phoebe knew that wasn't all of it. He just, just didn't—couldn't—understand the most important aspect of her life. Magic. Phoebe tightened her hold on her covers. _How could she ever go out with someone who didn't know ever again?_ She wondered with a touch of dismay. Paige has Richard, Piper has—well, had—Leo.

_Prue had Andy_, a hopeful voice in her head suggested. But Phoebe knew that wasn't a good enough example. They had been in love at the beginning of all this, when they still had a good hold on the "normal" things in life. Six years into the game was too much to just ignore when it came to the other aspects of her life.

Magic. It all came back to this. Magic had brought together her and Cole in the strangest way possible and had broken them up with a bluntness that was, quite frankly, rude. "Why?" she murmured to herself. Why do such a thing to her, if not just to torture her in some sick, twisted, _demonic_ way? Phoebe had meant the word just as an adjective, but as she thought more, she realized that those were the words that she had used on Cole when she first realized he was a demon.

Phoebe squeezed her eyelids together, willing herself to go to sleep. To her surprise, she felt the first touch of drowsiness take her. Maybe being an empath enabled her to sleep at will? That would be useful...her thoughts became more and more jumbled and incoherent as she drifted off to sleep. Her last conscious thought, so fleeting and quiet that she immediately forgot it afterwards, was a question she had harbored for the longest time. Where would she and Cole be now, if magic had not interfered...?

Cupid blinked slowly, and then, faintly, began to smile.

**A/N:** I really hope you've enjoyed this story so far, it's gonna get real interesting, I promise. Please review!


	2. Hangovers and Long Hair

**A/N:** A few things before we begin. Firstly, thank you so much for all your wonderful input on my first chapter, you guys certain made my day and I hope I can continue to meet your level of expectation. Secondly, while every other character isn't mine, Amy "Ames" Carrasco is my invention. Thirdly, I hope you enjoy the chapter, and please remember to review afterwards!

**Love's Intervention  
****_Chapter Two: Hangovers and Long Hair_**

A voice drifted into Phoebe's mind as she slowly began to wake up. "Hon, wake up already," it prodded her.

Phoebe responded by turning and burying her face in the pillow. For some strange reason, the pillowcase felt different, a bit coarser. But that couldn't be right...

"Phoebe, if you don't get up right now, you'll be late for class, _again_, and you'll blame me—_again._"

Phoebe squeezed her eyelids together without opening them beforehand. Class. How she hated getting up for _class_, by her age you would think she wouldn't still be in school, would she?

But wait. She _wasn't_ in school anymore...

Phoebe's eyes flew open as she sat up in her bed, then she promptly laid back down cautiously, her head pounding. She closed her eyes again, though it didn't make much difference—she couldn't see so well, anyways.

"I know, your hangover," said the voice again, sounding slightly more sympathetic. "But you made me promise, so I won't back down. I'll get you some herbal tea, and then you're off to college. You don't want to fail your classes, do you?"

Phoebe glanced blearily at the direction from which that familiar voice was coming from. Familiar, but she hasn't heard it in years, it was impossible...

"Ames?" she croaked out, as the blurry shapes took on more form.

"In the flesh," the girl tossed out in that casual manner of hers. Phoebe could recognize her now, her long brownish black hair and the figure that seemed to emit energy from all directions. But it couldn't be, just couldn't. Amy was her friend from _New York_, six years ago, what was going _on_—?

Phoebe carefully sat up, rubbed her eyes, and looked at her surroundings. "Where _am_ I?" she blurted out before she could stop herself.

Amy, or Ames, which was the nickname she preferred, stopped walking toward a door on Phoebe's right hand side, turned around, put her hands on her hips, and rolled her eyes in one, fluid motion. "12 Riverhead Road, Apartment 3B, San Francisco, California, The United States of America, Earth, The Solar System, The Milky Way...need I go on?" she retorted.

Phoebe ignored her sarcasm, though in actuality she was actually a bit comforted by it. At least it was something she knew, in otherwise alien surroundings. She was in a smallish room that she had to guess was hers'. All her personal touches were there; the color theme of pink, beige and brown (Ames preferred bolder colors), a miniature statue of a faerie on her nightstand (though she knew now they didn't have such pointy ears), some sort of Chinese mantra framed on her wall. Her eyes scanned pass her dresser, but quickly averted back to it when she caught her reflection in the mirror. She got out of bed, slowly, almost not even noticing the jabbing pains in her head.

When she reached the dresser, she put her hands slowly on the surface and stared at the mirror attached to it on top. Her hair...it was..._long_. Mid-length, actually. And a honeyed color. She grabbed a brush on the dresser, and slowly moved it through her locks, her free hand following its process. She even tugged on it cautiously to make sure it was real. It was.

She stared down at what she was wearing. A giant t-shirt from a local radio station-sponsored concert that she'd never been to. Phoebe stumbled back to her bed, half dazed and half in pain, and sat rather heavily upon it. She brought her left leg up on her right knee, and stared at her inner calf. There was supposed to be a long, thin scar from a demon scuffle that Chris had only healed temporarily before another demon challenged them. It wasn't there.

Phoebe slowly put her hand to her forehead, and tried to come up with an explanation for what was going on. _I can try to go the normal way and suggest it's all a dream_. She furtively pinched herself on the arm, though without much hope. Sure enough, all it did was add to the throbbing in her head—which she had got from a supposed hangover, even though she hadn't sipped anything alcoholic in over a week. _Which was something_, a sardonic voice in her head commented. _Being the sister of a club owner and just breaking up with your boyfriend and all_.

Talking about sisters...where were they? Why was she in this apartment, with a buddy from New York no less? Why is her hair long and blonde? She could go on and on, but her training as a Charmed One had her stop. _Be calm, try to think this out._ So she tried. She called up an image of the Book of Shadows in her head, and tried to look through its pages in her mind. She thought about her past experiences with these similar circumstances. And then she thought back to one particular day...

"Baaack!" announced Ames cheerfully, appearing through the swinging door. She held out a cup of tea to Phoebe. "Drink up, darling, looks like you really need it. Thank God I used my strongest leaves." Phoebe acquiesced silently and drank the tea, remembering how Ames' tea in the past had helped revive her from worse hangovers. Remembering how it was like to even _have _a hangover at all.

"Ames," said Phoebe after taking a long draught of the tea, unable to keep the tiniest of quivers out of her voice. "What's today?"

"The 24th. Thursday."

Phoebe hesitated. "Of?"

Ames gave her a look. "October. Phoebe, are you OK? You don't seem to remember anything, and you look like you've just been hit over the head by a mallet."

Phoebe shook her head. "Ames, I'm fine. Last night was just a little crazy." Too bad she couldn't tell her that she knew nothing about it. Though actually... "In fact, I don't seem to remember much of it at all."

However, Ames seemed to find her question even more intriguing. "You danced. You drank. The usual. Well, maybe you drank a little more than usual, but its nothing you're not used to. You know, I'm beginning to think somebody slipped something into your drink. But," she added quickly, "nothing would've happened to you. I was with you the whole time."

Phoebe nodded, lost in her thoughts. It probably wouldn't be such a good idea to ask Ames what the year is. She was brought out of them by Ames' voice yet again. "Well," she was saying, "Do you think you need to stay home from class? I know you have your test and all, and I know you told me you needed to study, but if you need to stay, it's fine. Your class is in two hours, by the way—it's 8:30 now."

"No, it's OK," Phoebe responded, slowly getting up. She needed answers, and she certainly couldn't get them by staying in this apartment. She took her class schedule, which she had noticed while she was drinking the tea, off her nightstand, and observed it. San Francisco University. Thursday...sociology. Well, she took it once before, and from the looks of it, with the same professor as well. She would have to stick through it. From what she knew about alternate universes...it was better not to stir things up and cause trouble. At least, not until she had a better grip on what's going on. Who had sent her here? What was their purpose? "Can I get a ride?" Phoebe asked, remembering that Ames knew how to drive and hoping she had a car.

"Sure," she responded. Ames got up and started to leave the room. "Oh," she said, turning back. "Don't forget about your job. You'll get fired for sure if you don't show up one more time."

"Right." Phoebe widened her eyes in alarm. What job did she have? She checked the back of her schedule, breathed a sigh of relief, and then choked up again. Sure enough, it had her job's schedule, as well as the place and address. But she was a—manicurist? She got up from her bed, aches already clearing, but was as bewildered as ever. She didn't even know if this was an alternate universe, but she had to admit it was the best explanation she had. Nevertheless, she started rummaging through her wardrobe, glad that her taste, at least, was still more or less in tact, according to the clothes she found. She tossed on a fitted black tank top, jumped into a pair of jeans she actually owned in her universe (if she was indeed in another universe), and put on a sweater on top. She brushed her hair, marveling at how good she looked with it, and dabbed on some makeup. She grabbed the textbooks that she knew came with the class, the schedule as well, and hurried out of her room.

Phoebe immediately hit upon her and Ames' living room, which had a bold green decor. Leave it to Ames to make the most out of something, Phoebe mused with a half smile. It was a small place, but it seemed twice as big, the way it was set up. The door immediately adjacent to hers was Ames' room (she could see the red paint from the partially open door), and she had to guess the door a little further down her right side was the bathroom. The kitchen doorway was directly in front of her, across the living room. So the exit would be that door on the left near the kitchen. Phoebe searched for a little table where she knew she would find her keys and such—and sure enough, there it was, in between her door and Ames, littered with her keys, wallet, and even a cell phone. She felt like she knew this apartment already; she had shared one not unlike this one with the same person in New York.

Phoebe set her books on the small table and hurried to the bathroom, where she brushed her teeth (she would have to shower when she got back later) and spritzed hairspray onto her head. She grabbed her things and headed for the door, pausing only slightly at the kitchen entrance. Then she decided against it; if things go well, she could grab a freshly-baked muffin from her real home's kitchen. Assuming that she had sisters at all in this world.

She went down three flights of stairs; into a modest but comfortable lobby; then out into the street, where Ames was waiting at the corner in a black Corolla. Phoebe ran to the passenger seat and slammed the door behind her.

"In a hurry, aren't we?" commented Ames a bit dryly as she pulled onto the road. "Knowing you, you're probably not rushing off to school to go read up on your lessons but somewhere else instead."

"Actually, yes," said Phoebe, leaning back into the upholstery, her headache not completely gone. "Can you take me to Piper and Paige?"

Ames looked surprised, then a bit puzzled, but whatever thought she found puzzling she apparently dismissed. "You mean your sisters?" She took her eyes off the road long enough to see Phoebe nod yes. "So what made you change your mind to never see them ever again?"

Phoebe shrugged and made a non-committal sound, even though she knew that Ames wouldn't accept that as an answer. So she had sworn off her sisters in this universe? That doesn't sound very promising..."I dunno."

"Oh, please!" Ames nearly lifted her hands off the steering wheel in annoyance, and muttered something to herself in Spanish. "You aren't going to get so easily past me like that, you know. What happened to all those nightly rants about how they will never accept you as a human being and rejecting them as a part of your family?" She paused as she swerved past a couple of slow cars. "Before you begin explaining, though, you might want to tell me how to get there."

Phoebe smiled, despite the circumstances. She never realized how much she had missed her friends from New York. "From here?..." She gave the directions and waited until she saw the assent from Ames, then continued, a bit more hesitantly. "About seeing my sisters...I just have a few things to sort out with them. Just drop me off there, I'll catch a ride elsewhere after that. OK?"

"Sure." They rode the rest of the ride in comfortable silence.

**A/N(2):** Please review, and if you have any input, it would be greatly appreciated. Til next time!


	3. At the Manor

**Love's Intervention  
****_Chapter Three: At the Manor_**

**Note:** Just to clarify a few things, as to when this story takes place for Phoebe. For Phoebe, Leo is an Elder, but still hangs around the family. Phoebe and Paige both know about Chris' secret, but his parents don't. As to where Phoebe is _now_...you'll just have to see for yourself!

Phoebe stood on the porch of the Manor, waiting nervously for somebody to answer the door. She had tried calling for both Leo and Chris as soon as Ames had left, to no avail. She was on her own—unless her sisters could help her. _Last night, I slept in this house_, she thought. _Now, I have to ring the doorbell to be let in._ She waited, her impatience and apprehension mounting as no one opened the door. She had checked the mailbox; still read "Halliwell", in small print on the bottom. Was Piper out at the club, then? How about Paige? If they weren't at home, where would she go now? Ames had left a minute ago. Her wallet told her she had a driver's license but not a car: she had surmised that much from Ames' teasing comments.

The door opened suddenly, awaking Phoebe out of her thoughts. There stood Piper staring back at her, looking very, _very_ surprised.

"Phoebe," Piper said in a soft tone. It was a more of a question than a statement, and Phoebe answered as such.

"Yes. I mean, yes, it's me," replied Phoebe, stumbling over her words. The situation wasn't only just awkward, it was a bit disturbing. They were best friends, not...strangers. "Um, can I come in?"

Piper opened the door wider, looking even more bewildered. "OK, sure, go ahead..."

Phoebe stepped in, feeling like an intruder in her own home. She looked around. The manor was still basically the same, except it seemed to be all Piper's, with some masculine features. None of Phoebe's touches, obviously, since she didn't seem to live here, but none of Paige's, either.

_I guess she lives here with Leo then_¸ Phoebe thought to herself. She was starting to get used to all these weird surprises. Apparently here, Leo didn't turn into an Elder, and they lived together. Yet the more she thought about the situation as a whole, the more incredibly confusing it became. Did that mean that Piper and Paige weren't living together? Was the Power of Three not activated at _all_, or something? _And also_, a little voice in her head nagged, _Leo hates boxing. So what is with all this Mike Tyson stuff doing around here?_

Phoebe wandered a bit until she got to a picture of her, Piper, and Prue. "Strange, isn't it?" Piper said gently over her shoulder. "Remember how Grams—God rest her soul—tried to get us to stand for that one single picture?" Phoebe nodded. "Our dysfunctional family," Piper continued, half bitterly and half mockingly. "Our father, who walked away from us, and our mother, who ran off with some guy before—you know." Phoebe nodded again, unsure of what to say. The picture was somehow different from what she remembered...

"So, Phoebe, what brings you here?" Piper asked. They stood in the hall near the staircase leading up to the second floor.

"Uh, well," Phoebe started in a chipper voice while thinking furiously. _If the Power of Three isn't activated, then they don't know_...she decided to stick with a general response. "Can't a girl want to see her sisters after all this time? Where is Paige, anyways?"

"What, you haven't seen us in so long that you've forgotten my name?" asked a new voice with a slightly accusatory tone to it.

They both turned. Piper and Phoebe were so caught up in their exchange that they had not noticed when the front door had opened quietly to admit another person. Phoebe was the first to react.

"Prue," she gasped, her hand rising up to cover her mouth in disbelief. "Oh..." she ran up to her and touched her cheek, and then drew her into an embrace, hugging her tightly but not too strongly, as though her body could break if too much pressure was applied to it. She wasn't slightly transparent and glowing, she was solid and feeling very much alive. "Oh, Prue," she breathed, as she felt tears coming to her eyes. "How is this possible?"

Prue kind of patted her on the back and drew away from her, feeling uncomfortable with the way that Phoebe was treating her. She looked over at Piper, who looked about as clueless as she was. "Well, at least you remember me," said Prue, turning back to Phoebe, her voice a bit gruff, but gentle nonetheless. Phoebe smiled gently back at her, taking in all the little details of her oldest sister. The way a small wisp of hair always draped across her forehead, the fact that she was wearing yet another one of her infamous shirts-with-two-ties-in-the-back.

Suddenly, Prue took two steps back and gave Phoebe a crisp, almost impersonal look. "So, what are you here for?" she asked, her voice sharp. "Do you need money or something?"

Phoebe looked at her, appalled. "Money? I don't need money."

"So why are you here, then?"

Piper interrupted. "Prue..." she said softly. "It's 2001. Just about four years since you saw your sister last. Can't you give her a break?" At this, Phoebe suddenly realized two things; the year, for one, and that Piper wasn't at all surprised by Prue turning up at the manor. That meant that here, Prue never died...even though by October 2001, she was supposed to.

Phoebe turned away from both of her sisters, her head absolutely spinning in confusion. In doing so, her eyes fell upon a large picture above the mantle in the living room, which she could clearly see from her perspective. It was a wedding photo, framed beautifully and blown up, so Phoebe had no problem recognizing the bride—Piper, in a resplendent white gown—and the groom, with his brown hair and cleft chin—Dan Gordon.

She tried her hardest not to sink to her knees in defeat. "Oh, Leo," she murmured to herself. "Oh, Chris." An alternate universe, with a huge emphasis on the _alternate _part. What was next?

"Phoebe?" Piper's voice sounded gentle. "You don't look that great. Do you want me to go and make you a cup of tea or coffee?"

Phoebe smiled gratefully at her, glad that some things never change no matter where she goes. The same may be applied to Prue, of course, but it has been a while since Phoebe generated such animosity from her. Phoebe wondered what could've caused Prue to act this way while she responded to Piper.

"That'll be really great, thank you, Piper. I just need to ask you—can I go look up in the attic for a while?"

Piper looked puzzled but nodded. "Sure, I guess, why not?" Piper turned to Prue with a significant look on her face. "So, how long are you staying, do you have work today?" She turned toward the kitchen, and Prue followed her.

Phoebe knew that they had gone to go talk about her, but that was the least of her worries now. She ran up the stairs to the attic and opened the door.

It looked...like a nice, normal attic. A little bit dusty, and not very well organized. No bookstand in the middle of the room, and more importantly, no book. Phoebe glanced around a second until she found the ritual chest, and opened it. A few of their old dresses from when they were young, one of Grams' old shirts, even a Barbie. No candles, no incense, no big, heavy green book with the triquetra in the middle.

She started to panic as she went through the next chest, the one that they kept for crystals and other miscellaneous witchy stuff. An old makeup set, what seemed to be a rejected wedding present—no Book of Shadows. What was even worse was that there was no evidence of _anything_ that they've used in connection to Wicca, not even any remnants from Grams.

After looking through most of the attic, Phoebe walked over to a small clearing in the middle of the room, took a deep breath, and launched herself upwards toward the ceiling. Just as she was about to fold in her legs beneath her into a levitation stance, she felt the pull of gravity and came crashing down on the floor.

"Oww." She stayed on the floor as she rubbed her now bruised hip. That, however, seemed to be the least of her worries. Here, the Book of Shadows is missing. Who knows what could happen with this book gone from the Halliwell family, in the hands of evil...was this her purpose? To find the Book of Shadows?

But is it? Phoebe thought to what she had found—or actually, _not_ found, in the attic. Nothing that would even suggest witchcraft. Was it possible?...Yes, it was possible, anything was possible. Yet, she couldn't help asking herself again...

Phoebe wobbled down the stairs, still hurting a bit from her fall in the attic. _Chris would come in real handy now,_ she thought. Not that she'd ever find him in _this_ universe. He was a product of Leo and Piper—and there was no Leo-and-Piper. Actually, where would Leo fit in these circumstances? How about Paige? Not to mention Prue. And of course, what the hell was she doing here? Was it some work of a demon, trying to separate the Power of Three in _her_ world? And how exactly are Piper and Paige going to bring her back? Phoebe grumbled to herself. _Can't even freaking think without going off on tangents that just complicate the whole damn thing._

Just as she reached the bottom landing, the doorbell rang. "I got it!" she called automatically. She walked over to the door, her limp mostly gone as the pain faded away. She opened the door—

In any other circumstances (or, more specifically, if she were back in her own world), the sight before her eyes would have generated many different responses. She would have yelled for her sisters at the top of her voice, she would have promptly closed the door in haste and shock, or, if she were feeling particularly nasty, she would have not hesitated to connect her fist with the person's face. Now, however, all she could do was stand there and gape at the man in front of her.

The man smiled politely at her, his eyes open and welcoming. He was about to open his mouth to speak when Phoebe beat him to it, without her even realizing it.

"Cole," she whispered.

His brows furrowed slightly and he gave her a slightly scrutinizing look. "Do I know you from somewhere?" Phoebe had no chance to respond, or even react to what he said, because his first sentence was quickly followed by another one. "Oh, hey," he said, only to somebody behind her.

Phoebe turned around to see who he was referring to just as he leaned over her and gave Prue a kiss on the cheek.


	4. Old Disputes

**Love's Intervention  
**_**Chapter Four: Old Disputes**_

Prue stalked off to the kitchen, extremely annoyed at how her day was turning out. First, that kiss from Cole—what was that about? She thought she had made it perfectly clear that there was nothing between them anymore. Yet he still kept hanging around her—so persistent for a guy she's only dated for about a week. The funny thing was, she could tell that he felt the same way, but in spite of that he kept swinging by the Manor just to say hi. Now that she thought of it, it _was_ strange—he never showed up at her apartment, but at the Manor. She should think into that, but not now. Too much of a busy day to go into analysis of the random doings of her ex.

Phoebe. What was up with _her?_ She shows up at Piper and Dan's four years after she flounced out of this house when Grams died and acts all weird. You would _think_ she would show some tact after the whole damn Roger thing. _Yeah, Phoebe, did you forget? Or would you rather pretend to be ignorant of the fact that you stole my fiancé away from me?_

Phoebe followed closely behind her oldest sister, trying to put as much distance as she could between her ex-husband, and as it looks, Prue's boyfriend. _This_ takes the cake! Hey, look everyone, its Cole Turner, also known as Belthazor, poster-boy of all demons, also known as the ex-Source of all Evil! What is he now, huh? Strolling as calmly as he could please, not even knowing his damn ex-wife when he sees her! Or is this the whole thing of it? Did he get resurrected—_again—_so he could make her life a living hell—_again? Nice touch there, you sick demon, hooking up with my sister, trying to make me _jealous_ or something? As soon as I get my hands on a vanquishing potion, you are going back to your hellhole—literally—once again, mister..._

Cole watched interestedly as Prue and that other girl both hurried away from him. They looked kind of similar—was the other girl a cousin, or something? Whoever she was, she was _fine_. His imagination went wild as he tried his hardest to suppress a wicked smile...

Piper looked up as her two sisters appeared in the kitchen. "Hey, you two," she said. "I got the coffee ready. Why don't you sit?" Piper noticed Cole behind them. "Oh, hello Cole," she said.

Prue and Phoebe twisted around to look at him. Cole looked back at both of them. Prue looked simply annoyed, yet the other girl—it was hard to try to place what was expressed in her eyes. All he knew, however, was that there contained so much in them that if it was totally unmasked, it would be hard for him to not take a step back at the sight. The woman seemed guarded against him, for some reason, but he didn't know her. Did he?

Phoebe swiftly turned back around and sat stiffly on the nearest kitchen stool, next to Piper. "Thanks, Piper," she said sincerely, preferring to pretend that Cole didn't exist. She sipped the gourmet-made coffee, happy to note that Piper's cooking was still the same, and took a fresh croissant off the plate placed in the middle of the counter.

"Always," she responded. She turned to the remaining two. "You guys want something to eat?" Then she seemed to remember something. "Oh! Cole, do you know Phoebe? Phoebe, Cole. Phoebe's our youngest sister. Cole is, ah, a family friend."

"And, even more specifically, my _ex-_boyfriend," said Prue, giving him an icy glare.

Cole smiled charmingly. "Actually, more like an _ex_-date," he informed Prue. "I don't think we had ever reached boyfriend-girlfriend status." He stretched a hand out to Phoebe while Prue sputtered indignantly. "Pleased to meet you," he said.

Phoebe took it. "Pleased to meet you," she responded, her voice heavy with irony and sarcasm that only she could hear. She tried releasing her hand as quickly as possible, but Cole decided to hang on for just a second longer than necessary.

"So, did you find what you wanted to find in the attic, Pheebs?" asked Piper, taking a croissant for herself. "If you didn't, I could help you."

"Actually, no," said Phoebe, choosing her words carefully. "I was looking for our old spirit board."

Both Prue and Piper looked at her. "Spirit board?"

"Uh, yeah," Phoebe responded, unnerved by the reaction she got. "You know, the one that Mom gave us?"

"We didn't have a spirit board," said Piper. She turned to Prue. "Did we?"

"No, we didn't," Prue affirmed, casting a suspicious glance toward Phoebe's way. "What made you think we had a spirit board? From Mom, too? She never believed in any type of that stuff."

Phoebe's mind reeled. No Wiccan objects in the attic, Prue being alive, Phoebe never moving in back with her sisters...and that picture. The picture of the three of them, taken right before Grams' death. They had taken that picture standing apart from each other, but back in her world, the figures had moved magically together.

She asked herself a final time. Is it possible that the Charmed Ones don't _exist_ here?

Phoebe looked warily at Cole, who had decided to take a seat next to her. So how does _he_ fit in? If the Charmed Ones don't exist, why should he be interested in them? Kill them as innocents? That didn't make sense, because he wouldn't actually bother to go out with his innocents before killing them. Maybe to get to the Charmed Ones (as she only knew too well), but it was too much trouble for regular people...

_Maybe,_ a small voice in her head suggested, _he's not demonic..._

She pushed the thought away roughly. Once a demon, always a demon, and that's that.

"Phoebe? Hey, _Phoebe?_" Phoebe was brought out of her thoughts by Prue's insistent calling. "Jeez, what are you smoking?" Prue paused. "On second thought, don't answer that."

"Prue..." Piper warned, but Phoebe beat her to it.

"Prue, I honestly don't get it, what is the matter with you?" Phoebe asked, her eyes ready to be filled with tears. Here, Prue was alive—_alive—_and she hated her guts. The thing that Phoebe had wished for all her heart since that fateful day was granted, and yet, yet...

"You _honestly_ don't know?" Prue snorted with disbelief. "Well, you're so used to playing the innocent party I'm sure it comes as second nature to you. You know, I would've really believed your story if it wasn't for the fact you waited four years to talk to me again."

Phoebe sat completely still as she comprehended what Prue was saying to her. "Are you telling me this is about _Roger?_" Phoebe asked incredulously.

Prue threw up her hands. "No, really, this is about Roger. What did you _think_? Like I'm just going to forget that you tried to seduce my fiancé just because a few years passed."

Phoebe's hands were actually shaking now. "It was exactly how I told you, Prue. He tricked me into going to his apartment—"

"Not this story again," Prue laughed unhappily. "Will you just shut it?"

"He said that you were hurt!" Phoebe cried angrily. "He said that you were hurt at his place, I went over and then he put the moves on me right when you walked in! You are my sister, Prue, _my sister._ I would never do anything to hurt you like that, and hell, he wasn't even my type anyways!" Phoebe drew in sharp breaths. What was the line she had used, six years ago in her time in an argument not dissimilar to this one? Oh, yeah..."So if you'd rather believe that Armani-wearing, chardonnay-slugging trustfund—"

"I was in love, Phoebe!" snapped Prue. "What did you want me to think, huh?"

"Maybe you were, Prue, but I am your sister. I will always _be_ your sister. Maybe you don't like hearing these things about your ex, Prue, but not only are they true, it seems to me like you aren't over him yet."

The kitchen was silent as the two stared at each other, Piper and Cole looking on as if it were a tennis volley. It was Prue who finally broke it. "You wouldn't understand," she said, both heatedly and dismissively at the same time.

Phoebe turned sharply away from all three of them, her hair swinging in front of her face. "Piper, may I use the shower?" she asked shortly. "I didn't get a chance last night or this morning."

"Sure, go ahead," replied Piper, giving Prue a hard look. "You know where the towels are?"

Phoebe nodded without even looking at her and walked out of the kitchen, her head down.

Silence fell over the kitchen for a good five minutes. Finally, Piper spoke up. "Prue, was that really necessary? She looked really hurt there."

"Yeah, well, did it ever occur to you that maybe she hurt me with her actions four years ago?" Prue answered back.

"Maybe it wasn't her fault," Piper suggested. "Maybe you ought to listen to your baby sister. Maybe she isn't lying like you thought she was."

"How am I supposed to know?" said Prue, starting to sound miserable. "I know I shouldn't have lashed out like that, but you understand, don't you? How are you suppose to decide who's right, the man you're about to marry, or...your little sister, who just got caught stealing a pair of boots from Macy's?" Prue saw Cole grinning. "What are you smiling at, buster?" she snarled.

He put up his hands in a defensive posture. "Not at you, just...Phoebe was a shoplifter?"

"Yeah." Prue paused. "So?"

"I don't know, she just doesn't seem the type, that's all."

Prue glared at him but stayed quiet. She couldn't bring herself to say the real reason behind why she had responded that way to Phoebe...truth be told, she had more-or-less accepted that Phoebe was telling the truth, mainly because Prue saw for herself after a while how much of a jackass Roger truly was. Prue just couldn't stand the way Phoebe was treating her...not like a long-lost sibling, but more like someone brought back from the dead...Prue shuddered inwardly as she thought of her near brush with death three months ago.

Prue was shaken out of her thoughts by the sound of Piper's voice. "It is strange, though," she was saying thoughtfully. "How she suddenly decided to come back to us again. It's nice, I think, because you know, it's what Grams would've wanted."

Prue nodded. That, at least, was true. She also had to admit that it was nice to see her again, and see how she's changed. Her haircut suited her well, but it wasn't only that; she seemed more reserved, controlled. Older? Well, that was inevitable. They sat quietly again, eating Piper's scrumptious food.

Phoebe appeared at the kitchen doorway. She seemed to hesitate, especially when she looked at Prue, but she spoke anyways. "I should go," she said quietly. "I have a test to take soon."

"Test? You're in college?" Piper inquired.

"Yes," she answered, while a thought seemed to strike her. "Yes, I am. SFU."

Cole suddenly stood up. "San Francisco University? It's kind of far. Do you want me to take you there?"

Phoebe looked at him, a calculating look, like she was trying to figure out if he had other ulterior motives. For a second there, she almost looked—scared? But then she glanced at her sisters, and the sight seemed to strengthen her resolve. "Fine," she said curtly. "If you wish."

She walked stiffly toward the front door, her books in her arms. Cole cast a final glance at the people in the kitchen, said a quick goodbye at them, and then hurried out to follow the young Halliwell.

Piper, being the good host she was, followed them to the door. Phoebe turned to her. "Thank you, Piper," she said. "For everything. Is it possible that I can swing by anytime soon—?"

"Oh, yeah, sure, come by anytime you want," Piper replied sincerely. "You aren't a guest, sweetie. You're family."

Phoebe smiled. "I just have one thing to ask you," she started.

"Yes?"

"Does the name Leo mean anything to you?"

Phoebe took the surprised and puzzled look on her face as a no. "Never mind," she said. She started out the door and Cole followed her.

As the door swung shut, she heard her response. "You mean Mr. Wyatt?"

**A/N**: As always, I hope you enjoyed it and please review. The next chapter may take some time, but it'll definitely have all the C/P stuff you guys have been waiting for, so keep holding on!


	5. The Devil Incarnate and I

**A/N:** A few things--  
firstly, to xxxcharmedxxx about chapter four: the person who said "You mean Mr. Wyatt?" was actually Piper. I'm sorry if i didn't make that clear.  
also, to shel about chapter 3: I was actually going to put the year in her schedule, but I kind of forgot to do that. As to the answer to your other question, you'll find out soon enough. Now on with the story!

****

**Love's Intervention  
****_Chapter Five: The Devil Incarnate and I_**

As soon as Phoebe walked out of the Manor, she noticed the slick black BMW parked at the curb. _Let me guess—company car? From your practice at Jack McCarter & Kline?_

"Right here," Cole directed her to the BMW. "It's a company car. From my practice at Jack McCarter & Kline."

He opened the door for her and she got in without a sound. Yup, same car that he had when he became the Source. How coincidental. "Your practice? You don't strike me as the type to work for a law firm."

He got into the driver's seat and smiled that charming smile of his. "So what do I strike you as?"

_Oh, I don't know, the devil incarnate set to make my life miserable?!_ "Oh, I don't know. An assistant district attorney?" She smiled innocently.

Cole frowned. "But I was," he said. "I was, until I got a better offer at the firm." He looked at Phoebe, as if he wanted to say something, then decided against it. "Do you have all your stuff?"

Phoebe nodded and clutched her textbook even closer to her chest. Truth be told, she had no idea what to make of these events concerning her ex-husband. She had almost declined his offer and just walk the whole damn way, but had decided that out of the three of them, she was the one who knew him for what he was, and she was the one whom he would intentionally hurt the least. _Though that's saying absolutely nothing,_ she thought bitterly, _because in the end, he hurt me the most_.

She thought back to what had happened in the Manor, to what Prue had said. "You wouldn't understand." _Prue, if you only knew how much I understand._ It was a strange sense of déjà vu, squared. It reminded her of the same argument that had taken place right before they had found out that they were witches, but it also reminded her of the arguments that took place between her and Paige. Paige had insisted he was evil, and Phoebe had insisted he was not, because she loved him and believed in him, and wanted to spend the rest of her goddamn freaking life with him...In the end, Prue never really loved Roger. Phoebe, on the other hand...the tears that had left her sobbing in the shower threatened to come again. She swallowed the lump in her throat and fixated her gaze toward the side window.

Cole cleared his throat, making Phoebe jump slightly. He frowned again when Phoebe didn't turn toward him. This girl was sure peculiar...he tried to make some conversation.

"So, what are you majoring in?" he asked.

"Psychology."

"Psychology? That's interesting. I've studied it a little bit when I was in college. Say, how old are you anyways?" Cole winced slightly. He had not meant to ask that question, since it was such a touchy subject for most women, but it had just slipped out. He hated to admit it, but this woman was making him nervous, which was not an easy task. It wasn't only physical attraction—though only God knew how much of _that_ was present. Of course, how she's been treating him heightens his curiosity as well. He had caught the sarcasm in her voice while she shook his hand, had seen the way her body tightened when he sat down on the stool next to her. And he didn't know if he was just imagined it—but when Prue accused her of not understanding, Phoebe's eyes shot to his, and he saw so much hurt he didn't know what to make of it. It was just for a second—a quarter of a second—but it made him desperate to know _why_.

Phoebe quickly calculated her age while Cole thought. Three years ago..."Twenty seven." Three years ago, Prue was dead, Paige was found, Piper was married, Phoebe was engaged..."You?" It was a challenge; _so, Cole, are you a hundred and twenty or just thirty?_

"I'm thirty-four." Cole squinted slightly at the windshield.

"Huh."

Cole cleared his throat again. "So, you have anyone in your life right now?"

_Funny of you to ask, Cole._ "No." _Interested? I remember you were before._ Phoebe immediately drew in a sharp breath as soon as she thought that. Since she had gained the ability of an empath, she has looked into many of her emotions and of those around her, so she was now pretty good at recognizing an emotion for what it was. So was that—jealousy? No, of course it isn't. _Who would I be jealous of, Prue? How ridiculous_.

"Hey, you alright?" Cole asked, turning his head toward her direction for a split second before turning his attention back to the road. Phoebe was still looking out the window, but it didn't matter; she had felt his gaze, as if she had eyes on the back of her head. Maybe she retained some of her powers after all? She tried getting a read on Cole. Nothing.

But she didn't have to rely on her witch powers to try to see what's going on in his head, did she? After all, she _was_ his wife before..._And that's where the problem comes in. See, if you knew him so well, why did you overlook the tiny little fact that he became the heir of the Source's powers?_ She sighed. "I'm fine," she automatically responded.

"No, you're not." They pulled up at a red light. Cole turned toward her and grasped her chin by his fingers so that she was facing him. "Is there anything I could do to help?"

Phoebe was staring into his eyes, those eyes that she knew so well and so intimately, his fingers lifting her chin...when was the last time she felt the touch of his hand? It was so long ago...

Her body suddenly froze as though Piper had flicked her hands at her. What in the Name-Of-All-That-Is-Good was she _doing?!_ She tried to move away, but she couldn't. She tried to speak, but she couldn't either. All she could think about were his warm, concerned eyes and his gentle hand. The part of her that had only awakened slightly in her subconscious ever since she renounced Cole flared up again, as she began to drown in a sea of memories...

And like a true pro, Phoebe immediately shut that part of her down and reverted to the part she had counted on from that very day. "I said I was fine," she said, gritting her teeth._ Hands off, demon. Hands off._ Cole let go of her and Phoebe turned resolutely away, replacing memories of laughter with memories of his hands around her throat. How those soft fingers had squeezed until she couldn't breathe...

A few awkward minutes later, Cole pulled up in front of the west wing of the university. Cole watched as Phoebe's hand went to the door handle to pull it open. Suddenly, she hesitated and turned back to him. Cole's heart jumped slightly, though he had no clue why. Her erratic behavior was incredibly irritating, but he couldn't help it as hope coursed through his body. He bit back the urge to say something, and waited for her to talk.

"Thanks for the ride," she mumbled, her gaze fixed on the car stereo as though fascinated by the CD changer. _Look at me,_ Cole pleaded inside, without really knowing why. He just knew, suddenly and definitely, that he didn't want her to leave.

She turned toward the car door again. Then she spun around, grabbed Cole's face in her hands, and slammed her lips against his.

Cole responded immediately, almost as if he were expecting it, by kissing back with just as much ardor, his tongue slipping into her mouth, his hands reaching for her back—

Then, just as suddenly, she broke away, practically vanishing into thin air. Before Cole had any chance to react, the car door had already slammed and she was already gone.

"Phoebe," Cole whispered, his fingers reaching up to touch his lips. "Phoebe!" He threw open his door without even bothering to check for incoming traffic and rushed out. "_PHOEBE!_" he called. But it was too late. She had disappeared into the crowd.

**A/N(2):** This chapter's a bit shorter than usual, but I know you enjoyed it! Please review—I've been missing them lately!


	6. Angel in Heaven

**Love's Intervention  
****_Chapter Six: Angel In Heaven_**

Cupid lounged on his pillows, a glass of champagne in one hand and a remote in another. In front of him, a little bit away from his floating desk, was a large flat screen TV, which was also hovering above the bed. The screen currently depicted a dazed-looking Halliwell handing in her essay test twenty minutes early to her professor, who looked shocked at the early submission. Cupid grinned, put down his glass, and grabbed a bowl of popcorn instead. Things were turning quite interesting in the place he had put Phoebe in.

He lazily stretched out his arm, and pressed a button on his remote. The scene immediately switched to Piper, on the phone at the club with Dan. "Honey," she was saying, "I might run a little late today. There's some sort of trouble with the band that was supposed to be performing—so would you mind getting the groceries?" She paused, as an irate expression crossed her face. "There's a list on the fridge." Cupid pressed another button so that Piper's thoughts appeared as a caption on the bottom of the screen.

_You'd better not back out on me again,_ it read. "We might have a guest tonight," she said. "Who? Phoebe. Yeah, her. She decided to visit us today for some reason. No, it's not decided, but I plan on inviting her." Another pause. _Great, here comes another copout._ "No, Dan, I'll be a little late, late enough to not have time to get the groceries, but I'll still be able to cook. So if you would _please_—everything's on the list. No weird culinary stuff that you don't know." _Dan..._ "So you'll do it? Promise me. Yes? Thank you." _About time you do something. I've been doing everything lately, and you've just been out with the guys watching stupid boxing._ "Love you too," she ended the conversation, albeit a bit grumpily.

Cupid nodded thoughtfully to himself. Interesting. Very interesting. He changed the channel, saw Prue at her job at _415_ and read a bit of her thoughts, then changed the channel again. He casually read the caption, then rubbed his eyes and read it again. He swallowed.

He sat up and went over to his desk, nearly knocking over his forgotten bowl of popcorn. He slammed his fist on an intercom button shaped like a pair of wings and roared; "Connect me to the Elders. NOW!"

* * *

Three hours later after the incident with Cole, Phoebe was at the public library near the college, going through their old newspaper archives, looking for a few clues about her situation. A part of her obviously wanted to know, and wanted a way out, but the rest of her just wanted to block out what happened with Cole. All of it, actually, from their very first meeting at that crime scene to today's disastrous kiss. It was the most idiotic thing she could've done, and she did it. So she tried to cope with it the only way she knew how; deny and forget.

She was succeeding for the most part, especially when she hit upon an article she thought was helpful, but when she expected it the least, a sweet random memory would pop up in her head. Whenever that happened, she would triple up her efforts to look through the clippings, nearly tearing them in her desperation.

Yet, the Cole situation aside, she had to admit what she found was interesting. She had found news of innocents that they've saved from their early years of Charmed existence. In each of the articles, it seemed that each innocent was in some sort of danger, and in each instance they were saved by some unknown source—the word "miracle" was used far more than once. However, every innocent that they've lost—they seemed to die in this universe in the most mundane ways possible. Of course, the reports may be false, but they couldn't fabricate the story of every innocent that they haven't saved the same way, could they?

Phoebe had felt a certain amount of indignation at her findings. What was the point of their jobs as Charmed Ones if they would be saved or killed either way? But, she supposed, that was in _her_ world, one where she could levitate, get premonitions, and read other people's thoughts. So who was saving all these innocents out here? _Maybe there's another Power of Three here_, Phoebe thought suddenly. She pondered the idea bemusedly. If there was, that would, technically, make _her_ the innocent. Strange, but there was something else bothering her that was skeptical about her newest theory.

Phoebe looked at the next newspaper in her pile. It dated back to the 80's. She shook her head—the lack of organization here was kind of pathetic. She was supposed to be looking through newspapers from 1999, though that didn't prevent newspapers from every _other_ year from popping up. She removed the old newspaper and looked at the next one. 1994? Seriously—Phoebe stopped, staring at a caption at the bottom right hand corner of the front cover. "FAMILY OF THREE DIES IN TRAGIC CAR ACCIDENT. Story on page 12."

She flipped to the page and came across a small family portrait of a young, 13-year-old girl. With trembling hands, she lifted the paper to better read the paragraph that came along with it.

_SAN FRANCISCO_: A terrible accident caused by a tractor trailer resulted in three tragic deaths yesterday. The truck plowed into a four-door sedan yesterday night, causing traffic to build up along the busy streets of downtown San Francisco. The three people in the sedan, Tim and Sara Matthews, along with their teenage daughter Paige, died instantly upon impact. Local official Craig Greavly calls the accident at an official statement "an awful consequence of the blatant lack of traffic lights in and around the Bay Area." The truck driver is in stable condition at a local hospital. Friends of the Matthews family say that the three were out on their way to a family dinner when the tragic accident occurred.

The newspaper slipped from Phoebe's hands and the contents spilled onto the desk in front of her while she sat, stricken.

* * *

Phoebe sat in the backseat of a taxi, staring blankly out the window. Paige...Paige was dead. _This isn't real,_ Phoebe tried to tell herself as the shock from the news started to fade. _Just like the alternate universe Cole made_. But it felt so real—and she had wanted it to be real, too, with Prue alive here, no matter how angry they were at each other. But with Paige gone—dead before she could know the meaning of being alive—how could she wish so anymore? No—she was going to find a way out of this place, and get back to where she truly belonged. And if that meant that she would never see Prue again, so be it. It was something she had moved on from a long time ago—and her living sisters' lives probably depended on her to not backtrack on that.

But before Phoebe could even think about all the demons out there that could have put her in this precarious situation in the first place, a troubled thought entered her head. Two years ago, Paige had gone back in time with Leo because she had thought for eight years that she was responsible for her parents' death. She came back with the knowledge that her parents were, quite bluntly, meant to die, so that she could live on and fulfill her destiny.

Phoebe thought as she reached for her wallet to pay the driver, as they were pulling up in front of the Manor. So, if there were no Charmed Ones here, then she had no destiny to live out. _But—the reason why she lived_, Phoebe remembered with a start, _was because she orbed. She orbed out of the car._ Maybe they weren't Charmed, maybe Patty wasn't a witch—but that didn't prevent Sam from being a Whitelighter.

Phoebe stopped moving, breathing harshly, and would have probably stayed in that position for a very long time if the driver hadn't cleared his throat very loudly. She handed him the money and got out, forgetting to tip him—in fact, quite forgetting where she was. All she knew was that magic—magic—

Magic didn't exist here. At all.

She blearily looked up at the Manor in front of her and prepared to go up the steps, but for some reason, she looked up and down the street before she did. All she saw was an old man, his back bent over, though he obviously had a good stature back when he was young. He held a cane and was taking one shaky step at a time toward the direction of the house, his face hidden from view as he was watching his feet as he walked. She kept on watching as he slowly lifted his head up and looked at her for a long time.

Phoebe began to feel uncomfortable at his scrutiny and started up the steps, but stopped when he held out a shaking hand with some effort. She began to feel bad. _The poor man, he might need some help_, she thought. She approached him with a kindly smile, ready to ask what was wrong, when the old man beat her to it in a cracked and wheezing voice.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me, Phoebe? Why am I old?" Phoebe became puzzled, but quickly dismissed it. It was just the ramblings of an old man, and maybe he knew her name because she also worked at a nursing home in this universe. Hey, anything was possible. "I don't understand," he continued to stammer. "Why can't I orb?"

Phoebe stopped right in her tracks and stared at the old man's drooping face. No, it couldn't be... "Leo?" she whispered.

* * *

**A/N**: Whew! That was a lot of information for a short chapter, and I can only assure you that there will be even more in the next chapter. If you don't understand, just say so and I'll put up an author's note on my next chapter. Hope you enjoyed!


	7. Angel Out of Heaven

**Love's Intervention  
**_**Chapter Seven: Angel Out of Heaven**_

Cupid paced the length of his office, waiting for an Elder to show up. Leave it to _them_ to take their time when something so urgent was taking place, he thought angrily, as he kicked a stray pillow that had fallen to his feet.

He stopped abruptly when he heard the chimes of an Elder orbing in. In a second's time, the space before him became occupied with a tall man wearing white robes that seemed to hang lifelessly off his thin frame. Cupid stared at him contemptuously for a second before retreating back to his bedchair. "It's about time," he muttered, though not loud enough for the man to hear.

"Cupid," said the man solemnly. "What is the reason for your summoning?"

"Oh, please, like you don't know exactly why I called for you," he snorted. "Why can't you ever stay out of my freaking business, you Elders?" he yelled out, his ears turning red.

The man sniffed at him and turned up his nose, but didn't say anything. Cupid was known for his hot temper, especially when it came to such an old argument like this. "Cupid, if you had summoned me to make complaints about all the wrong Elders have inflicted on you over the past millennia, then I really must go. I have no time for—"

"No, Eaton, no, I'm talking about _now,_" answered Cupid, pounding his desk for emphasis. "You know, I don't put it beyond you Elders to do this just to spite me, but to Leo? Come on, as if he doesn't have enough to deal—"

But this time, it was Eaton who cut him off. "Leo?" he said sharply. "You know what happened to him?"

Cupid stared at him. "Uh, yeah, and so do _you_, you're the one who put him there without telling him anything, as per usual, just so you can keep a damn eye on _my_ affairs—"

"Cupid," said Eaton, with strained patience, "I'll put this simply. What the hell are you talking about?"

Cupid stopped, his anger quickly draining as his ears faded back into their normal coloring. "This is not good."

* * *

Phoebe helped Leo up the steps to the Manor and to the wicker chairs on the porch, as they were closest seats available, and she wasn't sure if Leo could stand much longer. As soon as they were both sitting, she turned her attention to the old man. "Leo..." she couldn't bring herself to speak. He might've been old, but she could still see the semblance to the young man she knew, no matter how white his hair was. "All I know is that here, there's no magic. No Power of Three, no anything. I woke up in an apartment across the city which I supposedly share with my friend from New York—I came here, they didn't even know me, Piper and Prue I mean, yeah and that's another thing. Prue's alive here, and Paige's dead, she died in the accident which she survived in _our_ world..." she trailed off. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling. Leo, are you okay?"

He squinted at her. "Where's Piper?" he asked.

Phoebe swallowed. _Oh God,_ she thought. _How can I tell him that she's married to Dan?_ "I don't know," she replied, evading the question. "Maybe at the club? But Leo—don't you get it? It's why you can't orb. It's why you're...well, why you're at the age you're supposed to be. There's no magic."

He nodded sadly. "I see," he said. He looked longingly at the house, and then sighed. "I see."

"Leo," Phoebe tried again. "You're an Elder. Do you know what's happening now? Why we're here? Do you know of any demon that could've put us here?"

He shook his head, slowly. "I don't know why I'm here. Why don't we go ask Piper?"

Phoebe put her head in her hands. This was hopeless. Her only ally was senile; she wondered whether he really had any idea what he was talking about. Not that she could really blame him—how old was he exactly, anyways?. "We're never gonna get out of here, "she muttered to herself.

"But why?" Leo persisted. "Why am I old? Why am I alive?"

She felt like snapping at him. "Because—" she stopped. She gawked at him. "Leo. You're alive!"

Leo nodded. "I know." He shook his head again, like he was trying to get rid of cobwebs in his head. "I feel strange. I wasn't thinking very clearly, but I am now. Like it takes some time for my brain to kick in." A serious, intelligent expression crossed his face, and Phoebe nearly screamed for joy as she saw the real Leo that she knew so well, not just a shadow of his former self.

"I think I know why I'm alive," Leo said, putting his right ankle carefully on his left knee. "If there's no magic here, like you said, then I wasn't supposed to die. The Elders planned my death, you know, so that I could become a Whitelighter. Also because I was a future contender as a Whitelighter for the future Charmed Ones—you guys. But if there is no _you guys_, then, well,..." he gripped a piece of skin from his arm. "I lose my collagen."

It made sense. But still..."How about Sam, then? I doubt Mom would have an affair with an extremely older man. And, believe me, I saw the family portrait—that was definitely Paige, with his DNA and all."

"That would be because he wasn't, not like me anyways. He was born much later than I—and, in this situation—" he screwed up his face as he calculated their ages. "—they were, at most, 15 years apart from another. A bit apart, but we've seen worse." He smiled weakly at Phoebe.

Indeed they have. Piper and Leo, for example. Not to mention her and Cole... "Oh my God. I knew it. It has to be." Phoebe jumped out of her seat and started pacing. "Its Cole, isn't it? Oh, I am such an idiot. To think—"

"Phoebe?" asked Leo, his eyes watching his former charge pace the patio.

She turned to him. "Cole's here," she hissed. "What the hell is Cole doing here, looking thirty-four when he was born in the 19th century? It's him, it has to be. I don't know what he's doing alive, but he almost had me fooled, pretending like he didn't know me." She stopped pacing and looked at Leo, seething. "Another one of his damned alternate universes. He's really running out of ideas, isn't he? But to create one without magic? What is he driving at?"

"Wait, wait," Leo held out his hands, trying to comprehend what Phoebe had just told him. After a while, in which Phoebe became even more impatient, he spoke his opinion. "It isn't him."

"What?" she said incredulously. "Are you _joking?_ How else can you explain it?"

"There might be a possibility, of course, but from how I see it, it isn't likely. First of all, he's dead—"

"Yeah, like that stops him," Phoebe muttered.

"_Second,"_ Leo said pointedly, "He was powerful when he came back, Avatar-level powerful, but not enough to keep an Elder here. Now, Avatars may be more powerful than I am, but they don't possess the power to keep me trapped in an alternate universe. Thirdly—it doesn't feel like an alternate universe."

"So?" said Phoebe grudgingly, seemingly unable to let go of her view of Cole as the culprit. "He can make something else."

"He can't make this," Leo said firmly. "Whatever powers he has, he cannot create a whole new world."

"A new world?" Phoebe echoed. "What—?"

"A parallel world, if my theory is correct. It's like another dimension, except..." he rubbed his temple, looking tired. "This world is exactly like our world, the one that we live in, except for one deciding factor."

"Magic." She sighed and stared at the curtained windows of the Manor. "So this world is the same to ours, except that it doesn't contain magic. It still doesn't explain Cole though. If he didn't manipulate this...and how did we get here, anyways? How did you get here? All I know is that I went to bed in _there_"—she pointed toward the house—"and ended up in my 'supposed' apartment in the year 2001."

"See, I was different," said Leo thoughtfully. "I was—well, actually, see, I was orbing in to check up on Wyatt in the middle of the night, when suddenly I was caught up in something, something like a vortex, but different. And _then_ I woke up in a different house with a nurse that takes care of me. So strange. But who has the power to do that? Only the Elders. But they would tell me if they were to do something like that..."

"Right," Phoebe murmured, only half paying attention. She was trying to figure out what she was doing the night before she ended up in this parallel world, but for some reason, she couldn't remember...she shook her head angrily at the loss of memory and asked Leo another question that was on her mind. "So, when you say there's no magic, does that mean there's no black magic as well?"

"I should suppose so. If there are no denizens of good, then there are no denizens of evil. A balancing act, you know." Leo sat silently for a while. "So that means Cole must be an innocent as well, though I'm still not sure what his role is here." They both remained silent for a while, before Leo suddenly asked Phoebe a question. "You say that it's the year 2001?"

Phoebe nodded. "That puzzled me too. I mean, if this world is almost the same as ours, as you say, then why are we in this year? Or were we sent to another world in the _past_? That's just really annoying." Her eyes suddenly grew round. "Is this like the time when me and Paige switched bodies, except with our other-world selves?"

"No, I don't think so. I think that _our_ consciousness replaced _their_ consciousness, because I swear I should remember a story about this...I know it has some significance, but being an old man..." he chuckled self-deprecatingly. "But I do know about the time frame. Time in different worlds is not relative to each other, so what feels like a day here may be a year or two hours in our world."

He started to say something else when both their attentions became focused on the black SUV that was driving down the quiet street. Phoebe knew it was Piper driving in that car, and without looking at Leo, she knew that he knew it as well.

They silently watched as Piper pulled into the driveway, and silently watched as she got out of the car. Piper looked back at them, not noticing anything wrong. "Hey Phoebe," she said, then glanced over to her companion. "Hello, Mr. Wyatt," she greeted him politely. "How's Nancy?"

Phoebe glanced over to Leo to give him a questioning glance about who Nancy was, when she saw that something was wrong with him. Gone was the intellectual look on his face, replaced by glassy eyes and a sense of senile dottiness. "Piper?" he asked, a childish hope in his voice.

Phoebe turned to his older sister, wondering what her reaction would be and trying to come up with excuses for his behavior at the same time. But Piper didn't seem to find anything wrong about his response. She smiled again at the bent man before her. "Yes, it's me," she said. She turned to her younger sister, as if asking for an explanation as to why he was there. Phoebe answered immediately.

"I was coming over to your house because I wanted to see you again, but then I caught sight of—" Phoebe caught herself. "Mr. Wyatt here, and I thought he was having some trouble walking, so I brought him to these chairs. I hope you don't mind," Phoebe finished, her voice low and her head close to Piper's the whole time.

Piper shook her head slightly. "It's fine," she whispered. "Mr. Wyatt—his first name's Leo, by the way—he is such a nice old man, but he has some trouble with remembering himself sometimes. I'll just escort him back to his house, and his nurse, Nancy, will take care of him. You don't have to worry about it, and it's better if I brought him back," Piper continued when she saw Phoebe about to protest. "Nancy's rather protective of him, and besides, you don't know where he lives." She paused. "While we're at it, Phoebe, do you want to swing by today for some dinner at around 7:30?"

Phoebe smiled genuinely, though a part of her was still worrying about Leo and the effects that Piper had on him. "Sure," she said. "I actually have to go now," Phoebe realized. "I have to go to my job."

Piper laughed. "I know the feeling," she responded. "The only reason why I'm here now is because I forgot the publicist's phone number of the band that's playing tonight, and no one else seemed to have it. See, I'm kind of the owner of this club, P3." Her face slightly flushed, as she looked both bashful and proud.

"Really? That's great!" answered Phoebe, feeling like she owed her sister something for her incredible hospitality. "P3? As in Phoebe, Piper and—" she caught herself again. "Prue?"

Piper smiled, seemingly glad at both Phoebe's reply to the news and to how quickly she had caught on. "I know the three of us have never been so close, but I've always thought that it was interesting how all the women in our family have names starting with 'P'. And, well, I don't know—I felt like incorporating that, somehow."

Phoebe smiled, though it quickly waned when she saw Leo staring dotingly at Piper. _I seriously need process all this information_, she thought. _Because this is just a little bit too weird, even for me._ She shifted her weight from one foot to another and told Piper that she had to leave, then quickly went off to her job.

* * *

**A/N**: If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask. Hope you enjoyed and please review!


	8. Perspectives

**Love's Intervention  
****_Chapter Eight: Perspectives_**

Cole was at his desk, reading from a thick folder of files when somebody knocked at his door. He stowed the file carefully away into his desk drawer before getting up to go answer it. He pulled open the door to show the tearstained face of Phoebe. "Can I come in?" she asked quietly. He admitted her and tears start falling from her face. "I had no where else to go."

"It's okay." He pulled her into a hug and stroked her hair. "What happened?"

"Me and my sisters, after you left, we got into a huge fight," she replied, her voice quivering. She buried her face into his chest. "We said the most horrible things to each other," she sobbed, as his wife beater became slightly wet.

"Come here," he said, sitting her on the couch. "I'll get you a tissue." But instead, he headed over to a pair of purple double doors, and pulled out a knife, which he hid behind his back. He sat back down, and Phoebe touched his cheek. They kissed, and while she was lost in it, he pulled out the knife and pointed it directly at her exposed neck. He held it there, ready to strike, but then slowly tucked it deeply into the couch cushions.

When he pulled back, he was no longer sitting. In fact, he wasn't even in the apartment. He was standing in a mausoleum, opposite Phoebe, who was the one with a knife this time. "Trust me," she said. He held out his hand, she cut into it and dribbled a few drops of blood onto his shirt, which was on the floor. She looked at him, a small loving smile on her lips, then threw a pink vial onto the shirt. It exploded.

They kissed again, unable to let go of each other. They held on even as they heard a clattering on the stairs leading into the mausoleum. Finally, Phoebe broke off reluctantly. "My sisters," she whispered, her voice both urgent and husky. "You have to go. Please."

He kissed her once more, and then seemed to fade to nothingness. Then he appeared in front of the Halliwell manor, a huge bouquet of flowers in his arms. The door in front of him opened. "Hey Prue, long time. Is Phoebe here?"

Prue waved her arm at him angrily, and suddenly he went flying in the air until he crashed into a small table at the end of the hall. He got up, albeit a little painfully, and handed the flowers to Phoebe. "These are for you." She took them and promptly threw them back in his chest. He then noticed her cut lip and slightly bruised eye. "Phoebe, you're hurt! What happened?"

She glared at him. "You know what, Cole? It's really none of your business." She turned to walk away from him, when she suddenly stood stock still as though hit. She remained in that position for a long second, then shuddered and collapsed onto the floor as her sisters rushed to catch her. "I think," she gasped, as blood seeped through her shirt, "I think I've been shot."

He started toward her, but found himself in an attic, flowers gone. Phoebe and Prue stood before him in front of a bookstand, while Piper was tending to an unconscious man on the floor. "You killed an innocent woman. There's no turning back from that."

Cole's body was trembling. "Phoebe, you've got to believe me. Please, save me."

"Save yourself." She dashed the goblet of red liquid that she was clutching at his feet.

CRASH. Cole woke with a start from his office chair, wide-eyed and sweating all over. A paperweight had fallen to the floor at the same exact second the Phoebe in his dreams threw the glass. He must've dozed off or something...or something...

He shakily stood up from his chair and glanced around his office. The Victorian-with-a-Modern-twist décor, the law books on the bookshelf, the incredibly neat desk with his day's itinerary next to the files he was reading right before he fell asleep. If he had indeed fallen asleep. In fact, if it wasn't for the fact that he was still in his office, and that some of the things that happened in the dream were simply preposterous, he would have a hard time convincing himself that it _wasn't_ real. It was unlike any dream he'd ever had in his life; the content, for one. Sure, he'd had angry dreams before, but nothing as clear and realistic as that one. He had felt the knife shaft in his hand, just like he felt the pain in his palm as Phoebe cut a line in it. Cole looked uncertainly at his left palm. Was it just him, or was there a thin scar right there, in the middle? He brought his hand close to his face to examine it more clearly when the phone rang, making him jump.

He collected himself before picking up the receiver. "Cole Turner," he said.

"Cole? Hey, it's Piper."

"Piper? What a nice surprise." Piper was always good to him, and he liked hearing from her, even if she was part of his dream. But, a very minimal part, which made him feel better, for some reason. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Actually, I'm calling you to invite you over for dinner tonight. Can you come?"

Cole nodded, even though he knew Piper couldn't see it. "Sure, sure," he said, only slightly less-than-eager. "Um, if you don't mind me asking, who's going to be there?"

"Everyone, plus Phoebe." Piper continued talking quickly before Cole could say anything. "Oh, I know, the whole Prue and Phoebe ordeal—but I think they'll get through that. Actually, I'm counting on them to get through that. But, if you don't want to come, I'll understand. It's just that I've always counted you as family, so it would be really nice for you to be there."

"Don't worry a thing, Piper," he assured her. "I'll be there."

He could practically hear her relief over the phone. Cole cracked a grin despite himself. It was obvious Piper was in desperate need of buffers in case Phoebe and Prue got out of hand. "Good. Great! The dinner starts at 7:30. I'll see you there!"

"I'll see you." He hung up. He would be there, alright.

If only to see Phoebe again. Everything tied back to her. He touched his lips for what seemed the upteenth time since she ran away from him, remembering how it felt to kiss her—and then he shuddered, as he remembered how in his dream he had almost plunged a knife into her neck. That, if anything, was going to make the situation between them even more awkward, but somehow he knew that those dreams would be a key to understanding exactly why Phoebe treated him the way she did. And he _will_ understand her—he was attached, and he wasn't going to let go until he figured her out.

_But_, asked a little voice in the back of his head,_ will you let go after that?_

* * *

Phoebe sat cross-legged on her bed in the apartment that she and Ames shared, just back from her job. She was reading her diary for the first time.

And what a useful diary it was! It could not have come in a better time. She had come home from Anne's Nails and Spa, and while searching her desk for a pen, she came across this heavily written-in journal. It was filling Phoebe in on everything she needed to know about her life here, something she needed to know and couldn't exactly ask. Ames was already suspicious enough.

According to this diary, she had left New York in 1999, while in her _own_ world, she had left a year earlier. Apparently, she had not been fired from her job at Chelsea Piers, like she was in the magical world, which was one of her major factors for returning to San Francisco. Instead, she had kept it, and lived with Ames for an extra year before they both moved to the West Coast, mainly because Ames got a job transfer. She did, however, start college soon after she arrived in San Francisco, which explained why she was still in school after her graduation date.

Phoebe didn't keep in touch with her sisters, not even Piper, except for the occasional awkward holiday phone call. In fact, there was no mention of Piper and Dan's wedding, which led Phoebe to believe that she didn't know anything about it. Not that it exactly surprised her—she seemed to try to avoid her older sisters as much as possible, in this world. The reason why Phoebe endured those Christmas calls and didn't simply send a card was because she preferred not to let Piper that she was back in California. She even called from Ames' cell phone, for good measure. It was really kind of sad.

Also, from what Phoebe got out of her own words, she behaved in San Francisco the same way she did in the big Apple. Evidently, the lack of a Charmed duty freed up a lot of her time, which she spent almost entirely by picking up guys and going to parties. Very fun to read about, though she was sure that it was even more fun when she was living it out. In fact, she had even gone out with the cute cop that she made out with while infested with the sin of lust. Literally. His name was Adam, and they had met because she was the witness of a hit-and-run, and he was one of the cops on the scene. _Just like what happened in my world_, Phoebe thought with a lopsided grin, _except that the man who was ran over in this world wasn't hit by a little ball of magnified greed, and that I wasn't single._

And just like that, Phoebe started to think about Cole again. She let a stray hand reach up to her lips as she remembered their passionate kiss, then smacked it down with her other hand in disgust. She was losing her wits faster than 77-year-old Leo was. At least he had a good excuse; his body had just aged by half a century, he had lost all of his Elder powers (which, sadly to say, were much more impressive than hers), and not only was he dealing with the loss of Piper and his child, he was put in a world where Piper thought of him only as a nice but doddering old man! What she was doing now, however, was completely unforgivable. How many times had he hurt her, hurt her family? And here she was, practically inviting him back with open arms...or at least an open mouth.

_Technically, it's _not_ the same Cole_, a little voice reminded her. _This Cole is human and non-magical, which means he's not a demon_. Phoebe groaned exasperatedly and fell backwards onto her bed. Here's another piece of the puzzle. How could Leo be so sure that Cole wasn't behind all this? Cole was so misplaced in this situation that he sticks out like a sore thumb. It was almost as if someone planted him there just for the hell of it.

She checked the clock on her nightstand. Time to head over to the Manor, if she wanted to get there early. Phoebe trudged up to get ready.

* * *

**A/N:** A rather quick update of the story, though the next chapter may take some time. I hope you guys have read the chapter before this one as well—very pivotal to the story. And as always, please review, they are very much appreciated!


	9. The Dinner Party

**A/N: **Next installment in the story. Please review afterwards!

**Love's Intervention  
****_Chapter Nine: The Dinner Party_**

"Phoebe, would you please pass the salt?" asked Piper from the stove.

Phoebe smiled and passed it, making sure not to spill any. She was helping Piper with her cooking, since she was kind enough to invite her over for dinner. It kind of reminded her of their potion-making sessions—except that these concoctions were for them to eat, and not for vanquishing. Also, it was the one place where she could escape Dan. Phoebe felt extremely uncomfortable near him, feeling strangely like she was hanging out with Piper's illicit lover.

Speaking of Dan—_damn it, here he is again,_ Phoebe thought to herself. He smiled politely at her, and she smiled politely back. "Excuse me," she said to Piper, and hurried herself out of there.

Dan raised his eyebrow, then looked back to his wife. "Your sister sure is strange," he said. "I keep getting the impression that she's avoiding me."

Piper chuckled. "She probably doesn't want to get caught in another situation with her sisters' significant others." She pulled him into a hug. "Thank you for buying the groceries," she said sincerely. He simply smiled at her and kissed the tip of her nose. For a second there, Piper felt like she did when they were engaged, felt the thrill of being in love with her man. Just as she was about to say something, he pulled back and checked his watch.

"Time to set the VCR to Oscar de la Hoya," he announced. He flounced out of the kitchen without as much of a second glance toward his wife.

Piper stood there, staring at the spot where her husband had been, and sighed.

Meanwhile, Phoebe was loitering outside in the hall, near the steps, wondering what she should do to occupy herself. Maybe she should call and check up on Leo—frankly, she was worried about him. As much as she was sure that Nancy, his nurse, was taking good care of him, she couldn't help but fret for the man who was like a brother to her. If he got seriously sick, what would she do?

Just then, the doorbell rang. Phoebe panicked and raced toward it. What if it was Leo in one of his senile bouts to go see Piper or something? If he saw Dan here—he'd have a heart attack right on the spot. She hurriedly pulled the door open and was about to lead Leo back to his house when she realized it wasn't him. Instead, a taller and younger (well, at least younger-_looking_) man stood in front of her.

Cole smiled at her and raised his arm, showing the bottle of wine he held. "Hi, Phoebe," he greeted her.

She didn't know what to say. All she could think about was how she had forgotten how tall he was, being used to Jason's shorter stature. "Piper invited you?" she managed.

He nodded. "Yeah." Cole felt his confidence slowly deflating as doubts began to invade him. What was it about this woman that caused him to act this way? So unsure of himself, so desperate for her approval?

She gave him a look of such distrust that he nearly turned on his heel and left. It was like she knew he had dreamt of holding a knife to her neck. But before he could react, she had opened the door wider.

As he walked in, Cole handed Phoebe the bottle of wine he was holding. Phoebe examined the label. It was the kind of chardonnay that Cole loved, and it dated back to 1993. Expensive. This was Cole, alright. But did it also include Belthazor? Phoebe held the bottle out to him. "You should probably give this back to Piper," she advised, "Since she's the hostess after all."

A look of confusion passed over his face, but he smiled, almost to himself, as if he was chiding himself for being silly. "Of course," he said. "It's really rather strange—I've known Prue and Piper for almost three months, but you seem to slip right in there. It's like I've known you all this time." He reached out to take it back, and in doing so, their fingers brushed.

Suddenly, Phoebe was all-too aware that she had swapped saliva with this supposedly evil being just hours before. She felt her face flush and turned away, then immediately reprimanded herself for doing so. She had looked him straight in the eye when she vanquished him, so she certainly can when their _fingers_ touched. She's touched far more personal places on him than _that_ to be such a schoolgirl about it.

And so she turned back to look at him, defiance and anger written in every single line of her face. Cole started when he saw that look—it was that same look that dream-Phoebe had given him before she threw the glass of red liquid at ? Phoebe?" They both turned around to see Prue standing there with a puzzled expression on her face, looking at each of them in turn. "Piper wanted me to tell you. Dinner's ready."

"Right!" Phoebe exclaimed, beaming at her oldest sister. "I'll go and see whether Piper needs any help—"

"In that case, I'll go with you, since I have some wine to deliver," Cole interrupted.

Phoebe trailed off. "OK then." She walked off, Cole following very closely behind her.

Prue looked after the two of them as Phoebe picked up her pace and Cole matched it. Was it just her, or was there some chemistry there? Prue pondered over that. She should be angry—no, she should be stark-raving furious—but, for some incredibly strange reason, she wasn't. She was feeling—distrust. But not for Phoebe; for Cole. Prue was feeling protective of Phoebe. Huh. Imagine that. "It's a big sister thing," Prue sighed, a small smile forming on her lips.

Ten minutes later, the three Halliwell sisters, Dan, and Cole were seated around the dining table, digging into the Piper-made feast. As usual, there was plenty of food to go around, and so everyone busied themselves by eating. Soon, however, the silence became a bit awkward as people looked up from their plates and at each other.

Piper couldn't take the silence that was eating away at their dinner party (excuse the pun) and so tried to start up a conversation. "How is college?" she asked Phoebe.

"Um, its fine. I should be graduating by the spring," she answered.

"Great," responded Piper. "Do you have any ideas of what you'll do after you graduate?"

Phoebe smiled slightly. "Well, I'm taking psychology, so I want to be able to help others with it. Save the innocents, if you will," she continued, her grin growing wider.

"I can just see it. 'Phoebe Halliwell, Protector of the Innocents' on your office door," Piper laughed, who had made her joke in innocent earnest.

Phoebe chuckled half-heartedly. "Well, I don't know about the plaque," she murmured, looking down at her plate of food. "By the way, the food is incredible, as usual," Phoebe said, trying to cover up the silence that had started to creep back out again. "I've really been missing out these past years."

"I'll say," Pure said suddenly. Phoebe looked at her, half-fearing a fight similar to this morning's. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the same expression on Piper and Cole's faces—even Dan, who was sensing something wrong.

"I mean, when you left, Piper was still in the middle of her training as a chef," Prue continued. "Now you get all her experience at once, not like me. My stomach had to deal with all her culinary mistakes." Prue grinned, a bit sheepishly, and Phoebe returned it.

"Hey!" Piper exclaimed, reaching over to smack her older sister on the arm, albeit with a giant smile on her face that she didn't bother to conceal. No wonder—the room had suddenly gotten a lot less chilly as a collective sigh ran through the room.

And so the conversation really started, more between the three sisters than between the whole collective group. Phoebe asked many questions of her sisters, especially Prue, since Phoebe knew more or less what happened with Piper. Phoebe told stories of her time in New York, drawing from both her own experiences and the diary that she had just read. Phoebe did however ask Piper extensively about her wedding, and contemplatively compared it to Piper and Leo's wedding. No handfasting was involved with a ghost as head priestess; instead, the traditional wedding was held in a large cathedral with many guests present, and the time spent afterwards was at the Bahamas in a long, uninterrupted honeymoon.

Prue seemed to be doing well at _415_; she was rapidly moving up in the ranks of the magazine, and one of her photos had even made the front cover. Phoebe listened intently at the sisters' anecdotes, both individual and combined, and didn't know whether to weep or laugh. The stories were wonderful, and some familiar even without her presence in them, but it made Phoebe realize just how life would have been if Prue had continued to live on. The situation was both wonderful and tragic, and though she reveled in Prue's company, she felt herself being slowly pulled in different directions.

Cole watched as Phoebe conversed with her estranged sisters, observing her every reaction and movement with a lawyer's eye. He was curious at the way she was asking her questions and receiving the answers. Piper had blushed profusely when Phoebe had asked about the wedding, since it was obvious that Phoebe wasn't present, but Phoebe seemed to almost totally disregard this discomfiture and plowed right on with her near interrogation.

He was even more distracted with the stories that she had told of her time in New York. A hostess at the Rainbow Room, an escort at Carnegie Hall, her position at Chelsea Piers—her words described a free spirited woman who was out finding herself, but the person in front of him seemed different. There was some sort of solemnity to her that didn't seem to befit her stories—or befit _her_, period. Also, the way that she told her stories—with an odd sense of detachment, like she was describing a time that was far into her past, although it had only been a couple of years. Cole wondered to himself about what could have possibly made her change in such a drastic way.

At one point in the conversation, in which Prue was talking about the auction house she used to work at, Phoebe glanced casually in Cole's direction and froze when his eyes caught hers. They stared at each other for a second, until Phoebe looked away and gave a barely noticeable shudder. Cole continued to gaze at her, even though he knew on some level that it was a bit rude. But he couldn't help but staring; it was as if his eyes (not to mention other parts of his body) couldn't get enough of their fill of her, and a little voice in the back of his head would practically sing whenever he took in her silky hair, or soft hands.

As Prue wrapped up her story, Phoebe spoke up again; yet this time, the question was not directed to any of her sisters. "Where did you and Prue met?" she asked softly, her eyes meeting Cole's.

"Uh, well," answered Cole, slightly surprised at this suddenly turn toward him, "we met—well, actually, I met both Prue and Piper at the same time, when I was an A.D.A. They were around the area of a crime, and I was there to investigate."

She nodded, her right hand curling slightly around her salad fork. Meanwhile, Piper, oblivious to the exchange between Phoebe and Cole, rose from her seat. Looking around at the empty plates before her, she said, "I think that I should begin cleaning up."

"Of course," replied Phoebe immediately, standing up to help Piper clear away the plates even as Piper made deterring sounds. Prue stood up as well.

"Piper, sit down, you've worked hard enough on this dinner," she said, putting an emphasis on her words that Piper understood right away. "I'll help Phoebe." They retreated to the kitchen, carrying dishes in their arms, as Piper ushered her husband and Cole into the living room.

The two sisters silently put their plates on the countertop, careful not to cause them any damage. Phoebe pulled open the dish washer door and started to pile the dishes in, as Prue hung a bit in the background. "Be careful with those," Prue said as she observed her younger sister with her arms crossed. "Piper wants them—" Prue paused as she watched Phoebe pile the antique plates to the side. "Hand washed." Phoebe turned around and gave her a small smile.

"Phoebe, I—" Prue took an uncertain step toward Phoebe, as she seemed to lose the ability to find words to speak. Then she threw up her hands in a "what-can-I-do?" posture and planted her feet firmly on the ground. "I'm sorry."

The youngest Halliwell (youngest in this world) looked at Prue in complete surprise. Even when they were the best of friends, Prue was never known to say that she was sorry. Prue smiled when she saw Phoebe's reaction. "I am. I was such a jerk to you today, even though I knew you were in the right."

Phoebe nodded, almost timidly. "I'm sorry too." Her words carried just as much weight as Prue's did. "I've missed you so much, Prue. I'm sorry for running away. I'm sorry for—" her voice broke slightly and she stopped, as she thought beyond this day and time. She spoke again, in a tone barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry for not being there."

Prue walked over and wrapped her arms around Phoebe, the woman that she would always consider to be her little kid sister. "You're here now, that's what counts, right? Let bygones be bygones." _It was a start,_ Prue thought as she patted Phoebe on the back. _And it's a very good start._ "I've missed you too."

They finished loading the dish washer and turned it on, then went to the living room together, leaving the antique plates for a later time.


	10. Fingernails

**A/N: **And so another chapter comes along your way. Hope you enjoy, and please review afterwards, I really appreciate them!

**Love's Intervention  
****_Chapter Ten: Fingernails_**

Cupid stood in front of an assembly of Elders, his hands shoved in his pants pockets, looking like the most typical sullen teenager, even though he was many centuries old. He was even wearing the clothes of a teenager; a heather gray oversized sweatshirt and slightly sagging jeans. He usually didn't put on mortal clothes, but the Elders' quarters were especially cold and called for extreme measures. _I wonder why,_ he thought sarcastically as he dug his hands deeper into his pockets.

He knew, however, that it was with reason that the Elders called for this meeting. Cupid had really intended this to be a simple event in which Phoebe would realize a few things about herself and about her actions, not some blown-up situation that would involve those pesky _Elders_.

A rather stern-looking Elder looked at Cupid over her horn-rimmed glasses. "So, Cupid, what do you have to say for yourself?" she challenged.

"I stand by what I did," he answered stubbornly.

The Elder rolled her eyes. "As always," she said. "Did you have any idea what the consequences could be if something isn't done?"

"Just let Phoebe figure it out," Cupid argued. "I've arranged everything so that she'd come back as soon as she realizes what I want her to realize."

"If that was all, then everything would be fine. Well, except for the fact that as usual, you went behind our backs to pull such a dangerous stunt like this, but that's a different topic," she grumbled. "It remains that you pulled in others that were _not_ supposed to end up in the parallel world, and that they must all be taken out before the equilibrium of the universe at large is disturbed."

"So pull them out and be done with it! You've done it before," shot back Cupid.

"You ignoramus," she said, none-too-calmly. "Yes, we have done it before, but since this requires the power and action of _all_ the Elders, we can't do it because Leo is currently in the midst of this whole mess!"

Cupid's shoulders slouched down a bit more. The situation was turning out worse than he thought.

* * *

Phoebe sat in her manicurist seat, arranging her manicure tools in order while waiting for her blonde-haired customer to pick out a nail polish color. When she did, Phoebe picked up her nail buffer and started her work.

It really wasn't as bad as one might think it could have been. Phoebe was used to having all sorts of odd jobs; she really was a versatile employee. It also really helped that her hands in this world were accustomed to all that filing and buffing, so if she just zoned out a bit and let her instinct take over, she would provide a rather satisfactory manicure. Her only problem, it seemed, was her punctuality (or lack thereof), and failure to show up at work at all.

As she pushed back the cuticles of her customer's left hand, she thought back to the events of last night. She had stayed around for a little bit after her talk with Prue in the kitchen, but she had eventually left—by cab, thank you _very_ much. It was obvious that Cole wanted to talk to her a bit before she left, but she didn't give him the opportunity, and did not want to. And she was certainly not getting into a car with him again, even though he had offered with a damningly sly smile on his face. Phoebe could only hope nobody else noticed it; she had to remember that Prue went out with Cole in this world, and if she ever thought—well, then the progress from yesterday would have been all in vain.

And of course, that whole staring-at-Phoebe-throughout-the-whole-evening thing did make her uncomfortable. Phoebe remembered when her heart would soar whenever he fixed his gaze on her, his piercing eyes making her feel like she slipped into a warm, bubbly bath, preferably with him by her side.

Then she realized that she still felt the same way.

If she had been applying the color to her customer's fingers, she would've had to break out the nail polish remover. Instead, all she did was jerk the nail file at a sharp angle. The woman looked at her curiously. "You all right, dear?" she asked, sounding slightly concerned. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

_No, that was yesterday. Twice._ "I'm fine, don't worry about it," Phoebe quickly assured her, examining the nail to see if she had caused any major problems, then quickly moved on to the base and the polish.

The woman, who seemed to be in her late 30s, continued to peer at her before making up her mind to speak. "I hope I'm not prying too much here," she began, "but I'll never forget when my sister got the same exact look like you did just now. She was actually pouring orange juice in the kitchen—and she ended up pouring the whole carton on the floor. It was hell to clean up, but," the woman smiled. "It was worth it in the end, for what she learned." The woman shifted slightly in her seat, though her hand remained completely still. "My name is Marjorie, by the way."

Phoebe smiled genuinely. This woman was uncommonly nice; it wasn't everyday that strangers befriended you. Then again, it wasn't everyday that—well, never mind _that_. "I'm Phoebe," she replied. "You have a sister? I can relate. I have two."

Marjorie grinned as Phoebe moved onto the top coat. "I have one sister and three brothers. My house was quite a busy place when I was young. You should see my oldest brother's kids—they're just like us when we were their age."

"Oh, kids," Phoebe replied, smiling tenderly at the memory of Wyatt, and of grown-up Chris. "They can be quite a handful, can't they?" Phoebe dabbled on the last of the top coat. Marjorie stood up and paid, adding a large tip as well.

"I would shake your hand, but under the circumstances—it was nice meeting you, Phoebe."

"It was nice meeting you too." Phoebe paused as Marjorie prepared to go to the driers, wanting to ask this woman something but somehow afraid to do it. Marjorie turned to Phoebe one last time and seemed to understand what was going on through her mind.

"Maybe we'll see each other soon," Marjorie said. Phoebe understood her offer: Marjorie was giving her another chance to ask at a later time. Phoebe accepted it.

"Maybe."

* * *

_Ring._ Prue leaned forward across her desk from the chair she was sitting in her office and picked up the phone. "415."

"Hey, Prue," sounded a deep, male voice from the other line. "How are you?"

"Hey, Cole." For some reason, Prue wasn't as annoyed at him as she was before. "What're you calling for?"

"Uh..." he chuckled hesitatingly. "Well, you see, I tried calling Piper, but apparently, she's busy trying to placate the agent of one of her performers. So, I decided to call you. I kind of wanted to know what Phoebe's phone number was."

"What for?" Prue demanded instantly, her eyes narrowing. Then she heard for herself what she sounded like, and laughed. "What I mean is, are you planning to ask her out or something?"

There was a beat at the other end. "You mean—you don't mind?"

"Well, I guess I should, but I guess this just means that you really don't mean much to me," Prue joked, then went ahead and told Cole Phoebe's number, which Prue obtained last night. "Go ahead, Cole. Court my baby sister. But if you do _anything_ to hurt her—and I mean _anything_—your ass will be kicked half-way around the world. Got it?" Prue ended menacingly.

"Right, right..." Cole sounded immensely bewildered. "I guess I'll see you around." He hung up.

Prue put the phone back into its cradle, smiling. It _was_ strange how she accepted a relationship between her ex and her sister so quickly, especially with that Roger incident. However, there was something _there_, last night, between them. Prue had even felt it earlier that morning. Prue had only felt like that with one man, and if she wasn't mistaken, a relationship between the two of them could result in happiness for them both. Also—Prue was tired, tired of always seriously fighting with her sister, and wanted to end it. She knew, from a first-hand account, how precious life truly was, and to be on bad terms with Phoebe if something bad were to happen...Prue had nearly died without reconciling without Phoebe, and didn't want it to happen again.

* * *

_"All right, fine, I'll do it Nick," Prue half-shouted into her cell phone while walking briskly down the street. "But you definitely owe me one, you know that right? I'll see you tomorrow, my connection's breaking up." Prue snapped the phone shut and stuck it in her bag. She couldn't believe Nick had just dumped on her _his_ assignment. And she couldn't believe that she had taken it, too. Never mind it was just a couple of shots; he was known to be the one who asked for favors all the time and never returned them. It was sickening how she had fallen into the trap._

_She passed by an electronics shop with TVs in the store window, displaying the local news channel. "An ironic story coming from San Francisco Memorial Hospital at this hour. Dr. John Griffiths, of the same hospital, had a heart attack while on his lunch break at a nearby fast food restaurant. Though he was rushed quickly to the hospital, he was pronounced dead as a victim of what the spokesperson of the hospital calls 'the most devastating heart attack this hospital has seen since its conception'..."_

_Prue stopped at the red light at the intersection, digging through her bag for her Chapstick—she might've been becoming down with a cold, since her lips always became dry and chapped when she did. Her head dropped a little lower toward the bag as her weight shifted just the slightest, putting just a tiny bit more pressure on her right foot._

_It was like a giant hand was pushing her, though the street was for the most part empty and there was certainly no one behind her. Her right knee buckled as she stumbled forward. Her left foot landed four inches below from where she stood as she lurched off the steep curb, just about throwing off her balance completely. As she put her hands blindly in front of her to help her break her fall, the loud beep of a car honking the horn reached her ears._

_She didn't know what inspired her, but something did—and at the last second, she managed to throw all her weight backwards. The car flew by her, horn stilling blasting, as she fell onto the pavement, feeling pain searing through her entire back as her head nearly hit the curb. Her palms were jaggedly cut and bleeding and her arms felt like they were popped out of their sockets, since she had twisted them back as well to lessen the impact. With her remaining strength, she pulled herself completely off of the road and onto the sidewalk, where she half sat and half laid down, breathing in and out as her life slowly stopped flashing before her eyes._

* * *

Prue slowly emerged from the memory, remembering what had happened afterwards. She had broken the stiletto heel of her right shoe, and her skirt had a low gash on the bottom. After remaining in that position for what felt like a century, she got up and hailed a cab. Whatever the cab driver thought of her, with her messed up hair and broken shoes, she didn't care. She rode back to her apartment, where she slowly cleaned herself up and put her torn clothes away.

Later that evening, she had called Piper to tell her what had happened. Piper was immediately concerned and asked repeatedly whether she was OK, but she really didn't understand. She wasn't there, she didn't see what had happened—she couldn't understand how close it really was. Prue knew, with that feeling of absolute truth, that if she had been hit, she would have not lived. She had never told anyone about that, not even Piper.

This was why Phoebe's reaction to her freaked Prue out so much. Phoebe took one look at her, and just seemed to know what had happened. Sure they were sisters, but they haven't seen each other since forever, and they were never really that close anyways.

Maybe Phoebe was psychic or something. Prue chuckled a bit and turned back to the paperwork in front of her. Considering her options, maybe it wasn't so farfetched after all.

* * *

**A/N (2):** A note before you hit that review button on the bottom of your screen there (hopefully!). The next chapter, I think I'm going to have to change the rating from PG to PG-13, because I feel like I've been unnecessarily censoring myself in parts of my story. I'm just telling you guys just in case any of you all don't read PG-13 stories, a little warning, I guess you could say. However, if too many of you don't read PG-13 stories, I may keep it at the PG level. So, what do you think? If I don't get any responses, I'll change it to PG-13. So...hope you enjoyed, and please provide feedback! 


	11. Invitations

**A/N:** Now that my story is PG-13, I can run my mouth with nearly no abandon!

Also, in response to the comment left by LozzieLiz, and also to the general sentiment I've been getting from a lot of my readers; I know my story doesn't deal with Cole and Phoebe nearly as much as you'd like to. Hell, it doesn't deal with Cole and Phoebe nearly as _I'd_ like myself, in those chapters where they aren't really that featured. But I need those parts in my story; every character in this story counts, and I'm not going to under develop any of them. Just remember, whenever you get frustrated by the lack of Phoebe/Coleness, that the couple is **pivotal** in my story. As in, they are the center of it, even if it doesn't seem like it and even if it takes a good while to get there. But that's half the fun, isn't it?

Besides, even when Phoebe and Cole aren't interacting, they are thinking about each other in every chapter except for the second one. But don't worry about it; there will _definitely_ be a lot more interaction between the two characters soon enough. So, for those who are anxious for a bit of Cole and Phoebe—your patience will be rewarded.

Enjoy!

**Love's Intervention  
**_**Chapter Eleven: Invitations**_

"No, seriously," said Kevin, amidst bursts of laughter coming from his girlfriend and her best friend, not to mention himself. "The little old lady at the supermarket threatened to whack me off the line with her cane because I had eleven items on the ten-item express lane!" He shook his head as Ames clutched onto Phoebe to support herself from her laughter, a smile dancing across his face as well.

The three of them were sitting in the living room, Phoebe's body stretched out across the couch, with Ames and Kevin sitting close together on the shaggy rug on the floor. There were Chinese takeout cartons all around them; their dinner for the night. Ames finally recovered enough from her hilarity to give her boyfriend a teasing remark. "Imagine what the guys at the station would say," she said, pushing Kevin slightly.

"I don't want to, and they certainly won't find out," Kevin warned, pushing back. Ames pushed back again, and they soon collapsed on top of each other, laughing and experiencing one of those couple moments. Kevin looked up from where he was and grinned at Phoebe. "And you better keep your mouth shut too, you," he added, a twinkle to his eye.

Phoebe had to smile at the couple. Watching the two of them just made her warm and happy inside, especially when she remembered all the guys Ames had fallen in with during their time in New York. According to her diary, Ames continued to make little improvement when it came to her choice in guys—until Kevin came along.

Kevin was (and is, Phoebe thought with a tender smile) the perfect man for Ames, who had been searching for that someone all her life. He was an incredibly attractive man, which was what drew Ames to him in the first place. But that didn't matter—what mattered was how genuinely good he was to her, how they had clicked right away, how they had fit into each other's lives almost seamlessly, like they've known each other all their lives. And the love they shared—it was easy to surmise from the diary that though Phoebe was happy for the two of them each day, she had longed for a love like this as well.

Kevin was also an immensely good friend of Phoebe—another mark of how great his and Ames' relationship was. Every bad boyfriend of Ames Phoebe had immediately hated, and each relatively good and stable boyfriend Phoebe had liked and eventually befriended. Nothing, however, came as close as the friendship between Kevin and Phoebe. They were each other's confidantes, and they almost had the relationship of a sister and brother. Even now, Phoebe felt incredibly comfortable with him—in a few minutes, Phoebe didn't feel like they were strangers at all.

Ames, however, wasn't jealous at all; actually, she would beam with pride whenever she saw her best friend and boyfriend together. _Much like Ames is beaming now_, Phoebe thought amusedly, watching as Kevin started tickling Ames. Phoebe and Ames were always on another plane of ultimate trust—and besides, Phoebe never minded PDA that much, as Kevin and Ames rolled across the floor, their touches getting a bit more intimate. The same, thankfully, applied to Ames, or else they would've had a lot harder time living together.

Phoebe still sat there, waiting for them to either stop or progress further. The three of them frequently spent time together like this, and the couple would usually stop. However, if they both felt like moving on to the next step, Phoebe would calmly remove herself from their presence and do something else. Phoebe didn't mind at all, and Kevin and Ames knew it as well, or else they wouldn't do it.

When Phoebe saw the look on Ames' face when her head tilted slightly toward her direction, she knew that it was time for her to go somewhere else. Phoebe stood up, got out of their way, and gave them a quick final glance before grabbing her essentials and heading out of there. She didn't feel like staying in, for some obvious reasons; so, she headed out.

An hour and half later, Phoebe found herself in the Manor, having some dessert with Piper. Some of her famous gourmet macadamia chocolate chip ice cream, in fact.

First, Phoebe went out without any real purpose in mind, and so she wandered the commercial streets around her apartment. It was a part of the city that she didn't know; a bit more run down than the neighborhood the Manor was in, but it was generally a nice place, with very interesting stores.

One in particular caught Phoebe's eye, and she hurried in to check it out. It was a small shop with Wiccan objects for sale; but there _were_ no witches in this world, were there?

Well, not quite. Phoebe made a point of going into the nearest bookstore and checking out their children's section; there were Harry Potter books, alright, by the shelf load. She even went online a bit to run through key terms such as "Wicca" and "witch" on search engines, and a large amount of sites showed up, promoting the Wiccan lifestyle. It wasn't a Salem-like culture, and it wasn't one that was totally unaware of magic and sorcery either. Phoebe had thought this piece of information through, and decided that what Leo must've meant when he said that this world contained no magic was that this world's magic didn't _work._ That meant that magic and demons were no more than a story in this world, no more than a novel or a TV show.

It still didn't stop Phoebe from buying five large purple candles and some incense from the little "Wiccan" shop. She didn't care that Leo the Elder told her there was no magic in this world; she didn't care that her own experiences told her it wasn't possible here. But that didn't stop a surge of hope from going through her when she saw that store. Magic was such a big part of life, and Phoebe didn't really realize how empty she was without it until it was taken away from her here.

After buying her supplies, Phoebe headed over to the Manor, since it was the only other place she could think of going to. If it meant that she had to deal with Dan, so be it. Phoebe was _so_ not walking into Ames and Kevin having sex on the coffee table—she knew, rather explicitly, about Ames' love for cold hard surfaces.

But as it turned out, Phoebe didn't even have to worry about it. Dan wasn't home, and though in the beginning Phoebe thought it just meant he was late from work, she slowly began suspecting something else as the clock ticked away.

Phoebe took advantage of the lull that had fallen between them to ask Piper where he was. Phoebe's older sister, in response, sighed into her bowl of ice cream.

"At his friend's house," she uttered in a monotone. "Watching some sport or another. Probably boxing."

"Oh." Another silence fell between them. When Phoebe opened her mouth to say some neutral remark, Piper suddenly started talking, her voice fast and loud, like a dam bursting.

"He's always at his friends' house," she snapped. "Bryan, or Doug, or that idiot Johnson. And boxing—do you know how much that word pisses me off right now? It's not enough that he has to spend most of his free time—which, mind you, isn't a lot—talking to his friends about it, but me, too? During dinner, during breakfast—even in bed once, can you believe it? That was beyond—_beyond­—_disturbing." She sat back in her chair and jammed a particularly large spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.

Phoebe scratched the nape of her neck and looked away for a second. The second-to-last thing she wanted to do was to encourage the relationship between Piper and Dan; but Piper was in need of comfort, and seeing Piper upset was the _last_ thing Phoebe wanted to do. She was depressed enough back in the real world, though she tried to cover it up. And not without reason, either: husband torn away from her, her child in danger of becoming the embodiment of everything she fought against and the still tiresome burden of being the oldest Charmed One all weigh heavily upon her shoulders.

So Phoebe patted Piper's hand and comforted; "Come on, now, Piper, it's just a newlywed's dispute. Every couple goes through this time, you know?"

Piper nodded glumly, though not totally acquiescing. "I know that, but..." she sighed again. "I never thought marriage would be like this, you know?" She put her left hand on the countertop and stared at the ring upon her fourth finger. "It was supposed to be—be like in fairy tales, or in romance books, you know? Maybe not even that, not to that extreme. But," she took off her ring. "I feel the same with this ring or without this ring. Isn't marriage supposed to make a woman feel different? Not even in the littlest bit?" She put the ring back on again. "I love him, I guess," she said, the degree of reluctance in her voice noticeable only to her sister. "And I know I sound paranoid and really stupid sometimes. I know I'm lucky. Dan's a great guy in all aspects, really, and the boxing thing doesn't bother me as much as I put on. But—it's just—isn't there supposed to be _more?_ Just a tiny feeling in your heart telling you that he was the one?" Piper glanced tiredly at Phoebe. "You must think I'm a psycho obsessed with romance or something."

Phoebe shook her head. "No, actually, I don't think you are," Phoebe said, quietly. It was so hard to see Piper this way in this world, to know the reason for her suffering and to not be able to do anything about it.

The tone of Phoebe's voice made Piper look at her younger sister twice. It was a few seconds before Piper spoke. "I've missed a lot, haven't I?" It was more of a statement than a question. "You've changed so much Phoebe. Maybe it's the four years, or something, but—you're so much more quiet and reserved...I mean you seem so sad sometimes. And you're so serious...so..._business_-like."

"What, is that a bad thing or something?" Phoebe responded, more than a little indignant.

"I never said it was," Piper said soothingly. "It's just—what happened to the fun-loving Phoebe I knew, huh? What happened to your..." she struggled for words. "Happiness?"

"Hey, I'm still fun-loving and happy!" Phoebe protested. "But I just have more responsibilities now than I did before, that's all. And those come first."

Piper arched her eyebrows. "I was right. I really _did_ miss a lot." Then she ducked, laughing, as Phoebe balled up a tissue and chucked it at her. "But seriously, though," Piper continued as they calmed down. "I never thought _I _would be the one to tell you this but—loosen up. You seem so tense!" Piper started to say something else when Phoebe's cell phone rang.

Phoebe immediately reached into her purse, somewhat glad for the disruption, and put it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hi. Phoebe?"

Phoebe drew in a sharp breath as she recognized that voice. "Speaking?"

"It's me. Cole."

Phoebe gritted her teeth. "I know."

"Yes, well, I was thinking, that if you aren't busy, whether you'd like to join me to dinner tomorrow night? I could get us reservations at that new restaurant that's opening tomorrow, actually—The Silvertop, did you hear of it?"

"I have..." She had actually been to that restaurant a couple of times, though never with him; once with her sisters, the rest of the times with Jason. Phoebe opened her mouth to decline his offer when she looked over at Piper, who was looking back, her eyebrows back into their arched position.

Something came over her—Piper's accusations of her not being fun anymore, Kevin and Ames, the ring upon Piper's finger—but before she knew it, Phoebe was arranging a time to meet Cole at her apartment.

When Phoebe snapped her phone shut, her mind was in a tumble of thoughts. She turned to Piper. "That was me, making a date," Phoebe said, her voice coming out defiantly, though she was not nearly as composed on the inside.

"With Cole, I'm guessing?"

"Yup..." Phoebe bit her lower lip. She had totally forgotten that Prue went out with him before.

But the wide grin spreading across Piper's face told Phoebe she didn't have to worry. "Prue called me this afternoon. Told me he called her for your phone number and was going to ask you out." Piper laughed when she saw the totally confused look on Phoebe's face. "So basically, you don't have to worry about another Roger episode, OK? Prue actually thinks there could be something between the two of you—you and Cole, I mean."

"Really, now?" said Phoebe dubiously, not really believing it and quite not wanting to. If Prue was against them as a couple, then it would provide for an excuse to get out of the precarious situation that Phoebe dug herself into.

As Piper got up to refill their ice cream bowls, Phoebe tried to rationalize what she had just agreed to. Going to dinner with Cole may actually help her shed some light on what he was doing here, regardless of whether he was human or not. It would be like a business meeting—pop in, get some information, then pop out—with some food in between.

However, there was that small part of her that just laughed at her reasoning and waved it all away. _Please_, the little voice in the back of her mind said. _You agreed to go to dinner with Cole because you wanted to._

It didn't help much when Piper came back and started gushing about how the Silvertop was described as the most luxurious and romantic restaurant to open in San Francisco.


	12. The Silvertop

**Love's Intervention  
**_**Chapter Twelve: The Silvertop**_

Phoebe stood in front of the mirror in her room, fussing relentlessly with her hair. She was kind of liking the long hair again, except that she was totally unused to the sudden gain of twelve inches worth. She bunched her hair up in one hand and raised it, then let it fall down. She repeated the action again as Ames walked inside.

"You decided whether your hair's going up or down yet?" she asked, watching as Phoebe arranged her hair on her shoulders.

"I'm thinking down. Definitely down. What do you think?"

"Are you kidding? Put it up."

Phoebe turned around and gave a worried glance to her friend. "Really?"

"No. You can keep it down."

Phoebe restrained from yelling out in annoyance and instead stuck her tongue out at Ames. Ames returned the favor, then gave Phoebe a general look-over.

"You're wearing your dress," Ames observed, as she inspected the dark red dress with black accents that Phoebe was wearing. "This guy must be pretty special for you to take out this dress on the first date. Then again, he's taking you to the Silvertop—guy must have some connections."

Phoebe made some neutral sound in her throat and said nothing, choosing to smooth the non-existent wrinkles on the front of her dress. She looked back at her reflection again; it was a low-necked halter dress that reached all the way down to her ankles, the same dress she owned back in her world. On her feet was a pair of black heels. She had chandelier earrings on as well; they weren't fashionable just yet, but she still owned a pair that suited her quite nicely.

The sound of a doorbell reverberated through the apartment. Phoebe's eyes immediately darted in the direction of the front door, and she headed toward it, her heart pounding.

Phoebe took in the tall figure of the handsome man that was standing in the doorway, holding a bouquet of three beautiful dark red roses. "Wow," Cole greeted her. "You look amazing." He held the flowers to her. "These are for you."

"Thank you, they're beautiful," Phoebe replied, taking them. "Let me find a vase..."

"Looking for this?" Ames held up a slim crystal vase, already half-way filled with water.

"Perfect!" Phoebe exclaimed, quickly removing the roses from their plastic confines and placing them in the vase. After a few quick introductions, the two were ready to go. Phoebe took her black evening bag with her, and then they were out.

* * *

Cole pulled into the valet parking of the Silvertop, looking over at Phoebe for about the hundredth time during the car drive to the restaurant. It wasn't the safest thing for him to do while at the wheel, especially on a busy Saturday evening, but he just couldn't stop looking at her. She was so incredibly stunning, especially in that dress of hers.

There was also that part of him that was astounded at the fact that she was sitting beside him at that moment. In a way, Cole could understand—she had acted strangely enough toward him to think twice about it. However, it was more than that; for some reason, Cole could not believe that Phoebe wanted to go to dinner with him. _I thought she never wanted to see me again_, a voice popped up in his head.

He shook off the thought as he pulled the brake and stepped out of the car, giving the valet attendant an irritated glare as the attendant looked Phoebe up and down. Cole's mind had behaved strangely ever since he met Phoebe at the Manor, and he was determined to make it stop.

Cole held the car door open for her as they stepped onto a red carpet, cameras flashing everywhere for the opening night of the hottest new eatery in town.

"Cole Turner!" exclaimed a rather heavily built man racing up toward them. "I'm so glad you could make it, my friend." They shook hands as the cameras flashed toward their way. "And who's this?" inquired the man further, looking inquisitively at Phoebe.

"This is Phoebe Halliwell, my date for tonight. Phoebe, this is Max Bernard, owner of the restaurant."

They also shook hands, Phoebe's small hand nearly vanishing in Max's large one. "Date for the night, huh?" commented Max, waggling his eyebrows. "Cole is a very busy man, my dear—"

"We're rather famished now, Max, and we can't wait to try out your food, so we'd really like to take our seats now," Cole cut in loudly.

Max beamed, seemingly oblivious to Cole's underlining message. "Of course now! My man Raul will seat you, you remember Raul, don't you? I think, what was her name, Matilda met him as well—" Cole cleared his throat, to no avail "—and don't forget to smile at the cameras, the press loves to see a young new couple!" With that, Max sashayed off to the next group of people getting out of their cars.

Cole glanced at Phoebe, a sheepish smile on his face. Phoebe looked back at him, coolly amused. "You really are a busy man, Cole," she said, slightly mocking.

In response, Cole slung his arm around Phoebe's waist and pulled her body close to his. "Let's just forget about that now, and enjoy the evening, shall we?"

He was half-afraid of her response—would she push him away?—but relaxed as Phoebe leaned against his side as they walked down the carpet.

Meanwhile, photographers, who had caught wind of Cole's name as Max had pretty much shouted it, were furiously snapping pictures at the couple as they made their way toward the restaurant entrance, very much so like a movie premiere. Cole was one of the most successful lawyers for biggest law firm on the West Coast, while his young age and good looks gained him a bit of fame; and though Phoebe wasn't a quasi-celebrity, she was beautiful enough to be one.

One particular newbie photographer yelled out to them. "Over here, Mr. and Mrs. Turner!" The other photographers immediately picked up on that, and gossip reporters scribbled furiously in their notebooks.

At this, Cole knew he was in for a long day afterwards—explanations to coworkers, archives in local newspapers—but he didn't mind. Somehow, it felt natural, as mind-boggling as it sounded to him, and he tightened his hold around Phoebe's waist, even as she stiffened.

Before long, they were sitting in a relatively quiet section of the restaurant, to Cole's relief. He couldn't take any more of the paparazzis' hounding, especially since their calling her Mrs. Turner seemed to close Phoebe right up, if she had opened up at all.

They sat silently, looking over the menu, though Phoebe was really doing it for show. She already knew what was good in the restaurant, though she had never eaten at the Silvertop amid such commotion. The red-carpet thing felt slightly ridiculous, even if it was for the opening of a large, high-scale restaurant. At least she was somewhat comfortable with the press—Jason was a reputable man himself and she had gone with it, except for that time when a prostitute's ghost had taken over her body...

"What are you getting?" Phoebe asked Cole suddenly, more to forget that incredibly embarrassing memory than anything.

"Well, I'm thinking of the lemon chicken, with the asparagus," Cole said, looking over the top of his menu.

Phoebe shook her head. "Don't. It's pretty bad."

"Really now? And how would you know?"

Phoebe sucked in her lower lip. What could she say, that Paige had tried the dish twenty months from now and hated it? She knew how Paige and Cole's tastes were strangely similar, how they only liked sour things to a certain extent—but could enjoy sweets to no end. "A friend of a friend...of a friend knows a cook here, and knows his cooking, and says it's not that great," Phoebe answered, inwardly wincing at the not-very-convincing fib. _Why am I even trying? _She thought.

"OK then...what would you suggest?"

Phoebe looked at him for a second. "Fried calamari." This particular dish at the restaurant was pretty good, and Phoebe remembered how Cole loved seafood.

"And what are you getting?"

"The fettuccini alfredo..." Cole was driving at something, Phoebe was sure of it. Sure enough—

"How about this. I'll get both the fried calamari and the lemon chicken. If I like the calamari better, you win. If I like the chicken better, I win."

"You're on," Phoebe said instantly. "What do I get?"

Cole chuckled. "You can set the terms, if you want."

"Alright then," said Phoebe, a small grin forming upon her lips. "How about...if I win, you have to do what I tell you to do for the rest of the night. And if you win, you'll get to boss me around for the evening." Phoebe grinned fully when Cole agreed a little too enthusiastically. "You better not lie to me," she warned, giving him a pointed look. "Because I'll be able to tell."

And so they ordered their food and conversed while waiting for it to come. Cole was pleased at Phoebe's positive response to him—apparently, she had forgotten all about the Mrs. Turner incident. _Or was she growing into it?_ He wondered.

Before he knew it, their food was being placed before them and Phoebe was watching him with an expectant eye. He first took a bite out of the fried calamari; it was pretty good, he had to admit. Then came the competing dish. He took a bite out of the chicken and had to control his face from wincing at the overwhelming sour taste.

He looked up at Phoebe, who was still watching him intently. Cole debated in his mind whether or not he should tell the truth. After all, he couldn't pass up on the opportunity to make Phoebe do whatever he wanted being the control freak he was, could he? Besides, he had the most killer poker face in the world. Still, that stupid nagging voice in his head—_don't do it,_ it warned. _Don't lie to her again, especially now that you have this chance._

Lie to her again what? Cole thought to himself. He had never lied to her before—not that he really had a chance to, since he's only known her for three days. So he decided to risk it. Cole let a smile grow on his face. "I win," he said.

A few seconds passed in which Phoebe said nothing and just continued to stare at him. Suddenly, her face darkened considerably, and she looked away, shaking her head. "You know, it was just a stupid little game. You really didn't have to lie, but I guess its just part of your nature, isn't it?"

_See?_ Said the voice in Cole's head sadly. "What are you talking about?" said Cole out loud to Phoebe, a little harsher than he intended.

"Just forget it," Phoebe mumbled, as her gaze dropped back down to her plate. It was hard to remember that Cole was human here, and didn't know what he did to her—that is, if she goes by Leo's assumption that Cole wasn't the perpetrator. She both wanted him to be the one responsible and the innocent—the demon, so she could blame him for everything and give him an ass-kicking to vent all of her frustration, and the innocent, so she could have an excuse for these resurfacing, disturbing feelings.

Cole watched as Phoebe seemed increasingly distressed, and his features softened a great deal. "Look," he tried, reaching out and clasping her left hand in his right one, "I'm sorry, it was very stupid of me to do that. Forgive me?"

Cole looked into Phoebe's eyes and could've sworn there were tears in them. But she blinked twice and suddenly, her eyes were dry. "So I win, right?" she said quietly. Cole nodded. "The first thing I want you to do," she continued, as she laced her fingers through his, "is to hold my hand for the rest of dinner and eat with your left hand."

Cole pretended to make a face and reached for his fork with his clumsy left hand. His left hand couldn't handle eating utensils at all, but he was simply glad that the tension was over, and that he was holding Phoebe's hand, which felt so right in his.

He watched as Phoebe twirled her fork in her plate of pasta. He was falling hard, he knew—and they were barely an hour into their first date. Every fiber of his being felt so—content. It was so strange. On an impulse, his thumb stroked the side of her hand.

Phoebe looked up and seemed to falter slightly when he just continued to tenderly look at her. "What?" she asked, sounding slightly uncertain.

"Nothing. I just like to watch you," he answered, then immediately wished he could take it back. Would that sound a bit stalker-esque to her?

"Really now," Phoebe responded in a soft voice, as his thumb continued it's caressing. Her gaze dropped back to her plate, her eyelashes fluttering slightly as she looked down.

"It's not something to be embarrassed about," Cole said, haltingly.

"I'm not. It's just—" Phoebe sighed and slipped her hand away from Cole's. Cole nearly protested out loud when she did, but caught himself just in time. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm being such a spaz. You must hate me."

Cole took her hand and clasped it in both of his. "I would never," he said, forcing her to look into his eyes. He was starting to wonder about Phoebe, about how she acted that way. More likely than not, she had been hurt deeply by a past love. What kind of bastard would do that do her? That would be the last thing he would do, Cole decided with a surprising fierceness to protect her. He wouldn't hurt her for the world.

_Oh, but you do, Cole, you do_, answered the little voice in Cole's head in a quiet tone.

* * *

**A/N:**I would just like to take the time now to give a really big thanks to all my reviewers, since I haven't been officially thanking you all lately, past present and future. You guys encourage me and I appreciate every single one of them! Thanks!


	13. Addle My Brain

**A/N: **Hey guys, I'm back with a new chapter! There are three main scenes in this chapter; I hope it isn't too overwhelming. Also, I have started a new story that is altogether more Phoebe/Cole oriented than this one. The title is **Twice Burned**—I'll be putting that up in a day or two.

So, enjoy and have fun!

**Love's Intervention  
_Chapter Thirteen: Addle My Brain_**

Cole and Phoebe stood outside the Silvertop on the still-present red carpet. The press had decided to go home, and there was no one on the street except for them. Phoebe looked up at Cole. "So, do you want to take the car now?"

"Well, actually..." Cole stuck one of his hands in his pockets. "I was thinking about us taking a stroll for a little bit. I mean, it's such a nice evening—probably won't be many of these soon."

"But what about—"

"The car? I guess we'll just walk back to get it; Max won't care what we do, we're buddies. So...you up for it?"

Phoebe glanced at her watch while barely registering the time. She wanted to—oh, she wanted to spend more time with him—but she didn't know if she could take it. Before she could make a logical decision, however, her heart spoke for her. "OK."

They started walking, their bodies close to each others, when Phoebe's slim heel sunk into a particularly lush part of the carpet. She stumbled forward a bit, only to be saved by Cole grabbing her from around the waist and the arm. Phoebe started laughing as soon as she found her balance, and Cole did too.

"My God, a red carpet," Phoebe laughed, thankful that no cameras were around. "It's a big restaurant, but—seriously!"

Cole chuckled, not taking his arm away as he slightly shifted it to a more comfortable position. "Max always liked to blow things out of proportion. It is his biggest project, though—he has a right to be excited."

They began walking again, making small talk, Phoebe's aggressively logic side slowly beginning to yield to her instinct, something that hadn't happened in—God only knows how long. It felt so good; Cole's strong arm around her, her head leaning slightly on his upper arm, his deep voice, his warm body heat—though there was only so much body heat he could give, as Phoebe shuddered slightly from the cutting wind.

Cole noticed it immediately and turned to her. "Are you cold?" he asked, worry in his eyes. "Phoebe—you're only wearing your dress! It's almost November." He quickly shrugged off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

"Won't you be cold, then?" asked Phoebe, as she nevertheless accepted it. According to her time, it was almost May, and she did not want to have to spend the past half year trapped in bulky clothing only to have it put on again.

"No, I'll be fine, don't worry about me. I can stand the weather." He slipped his arm around Phoebe again, only to feel her terse up again—but only slightly, as if she was trying to refrain herself from doing so.

Phoebe, meanwhile, was struggling with both sides of herself. One mention of her real home had her mind wrestling for superiority again over her heart. _DAMN IT!_ Phoebe shouted in her head. _Can't I just spend time with the one I used to love?!_

That seemed to calm both sides of her down a bit, and Phoebe felt better than she had in two days. She allowed herself to slowly relax again as they walked on, and let his arm tighten more snugly around her.

They walked for a long time, just strolling slowly along the streets, as the streets crowded with the night rush and lessened again. The two didn't even notice—too wrapped up in each other, Cole occasionally making Phoebe laugh, Phoebe occasionally making Cole chuckle.

The couple also didn't pay attention to where they were going, and before they knew it, they had turned full circle and ended up back at the restaurant. Phoebe and Cole looked at each other a bit uncertainly—the feeling of the night had somewhat subsided. Phoebe checked her watch, this time for real. "I think I should go back anyways," she said. "I have my job to go to tomorrow."

"Of course," Cole replied, and retrieved the car. The ride back to Phoebe's apartment was also tense; but in a different way, a way that both excited and dismayed Phoebe. If she had her magical empathic ability now—it would go off the Richter scale, she knew.

Before they knew it, they were outside of Phoebe's apartment door. Phoebe fidgeted a little before breaking the silence that had fallen between them. "I had a really good time tonight, Cole," she said softly.

"Me too," he said, taking a step closer. She moved a little closer as well. "What do you think about tomorrow, at the same time?"

"I think that would be great," Phoebe replied without a thought as he took one more step to her.

Their faces were now just inches away from each other as they stared at each other, Phoebe's breath a little irregular as her body trembled slightly.

Cole took in a deep breath, taking in the scent of the woman in front of him, a scent that was so intoxicating, so achingly comforting, and so strangely familiar. Her round eyes were on his, and she was so, so close... "Phoebe," he moaned, and brought his lips down to hers.

Phoebe responded, her arms wrapping tightly around him as he lifted her slightly and leaned her against the wall. It was a deep kiss, it was a searching kiss, and it was a desperate kiss, as they clung on to each other in their ardor, unwilling to let go.

Suddenly, the apartment door opened and Ames stepped out, holding a black garbage bag. She looked over to her right and gave a little jump as she saw Cole and Phoebe frozen in motion, looking at her. Cole hastily put Phoebe down and Phoebe adjusted her dress, blood rising slightly to her cheeks.

"So tomorrow, same time, right?" Cole asked Phoebe, also looking a bit embarrassed. Phoebe nodded, and Cole gave her a swift kiss on the cheek before her headed toward the stairs.

Ames gave a highly amused glance toward her best friend, who was now trying to smooth out her messed up hair while glaring at Ames with a mix of sheepishness and aggravation at the same time. "What?" Ames asked innocently.

* * *

Cole sat at his office the next day, staring blankly at the coat peg at the far end of his room, on which a different coat from last night was hung. He had quite forgotten to retrieve his jacket from Phoebe the night before, as he had made the quickest exit possible when her friend walked in on them. Now, he wanted it back—if not only to just hold the coat to his face and inhale any scent of her that she might've left.

A knock on his door woke him, if only partially, from his stupor. Phillip Saylor, Cole's friend and partner in many cases, poked his head in. "You don't look busy," he announced, and let himself in, closing the door behind him. Phillip stood in front of Cole for a second as Cole made no acknowledgement that he knew his friend was in front of him. "You look really stoned," Phillip commented.

"Not stoned," Cole responded distractedly, his fingers absentmindedly fiddling with his pen.

"Ah," Phillip said wisely. "I think I know what this may be about." He took a rolled up newspaper from behind his back and presented it to Cole. "Of course, you must've seen this one already."

Cole spared himself a look at the newspaper that Phillip laid on the desk before nodding. "My secretary showed me all of them."

"Oh, it's 'my secretary' again now? No use of first names?" Phillip raised his eyebrows. "If I remember correctly, you were supposed to bring her to the Silvertop last night."

"No," Cole objected. "I _considered_ taking her. Never finalized it."

As a response, Phillip picked up the newspaper and glanced at the pictures on the page dedicated to the opening of the Silvertop. As there were bigger celebrities at the restaurant than Cole, the picture of him and Phoebe wasn't prominent, but was still large and distinct. This photographer had caught them at a particular instant, when Phoebe had turned to look up at him and he had responded by gently touching her cheek. "Renowned lawyer Cole Turner and his alleged newlywed wife seen sharing a sweet moment. Sources say the two were married in secret two weeks ago in Barbados, to protect his hot commodity from prying eyes," Phillip read out loud the description under the picture. "Well, I don't know about the wedding part, but she sure is a hot commodity. You did well, Cole."

"Hey, watch it," Cole warned, taking the paper out of Phillip's hands, not wanting his friend talking about Phoebe like that in any way.

"Wow, you've been hit hard," Phillip joked. When Cole didn't respond, Phillip's jaw dropped. "Oh my God," Phillip said in a hushed voice. "You really _are_ hit hard."

Cole ignored his friend's astounded stare and turned his attention to last night's events yet again. It took all of his self-control to not call Phoebe, just to talk to her, hear her voice, to happily drown in a feeling that he had never felt in all his life.

Phillip kept talking in the background. "I have got to call up your old girlfriends and tell them the news," he was saying.

"No need," Cole responded, still in that distant voice of his. "Some of them have already called me up."

Phillip shook his head at the lack of attention Cole was paying to reality. "This is just too surreal," he said. "This was the first date with her?"

"Yes..." he hesitated. "But somehow, I feel like I've been on more than one with her, you know? Like I've known her for much longer than three days."

Phillip laughed. "So it's true."

Cole looked at his friend. "What?"

"Love really addles the brain."

* * *

Cupid giggled to himself as he watched Cole respond to his friend's comment. He was now seated at the Elders' official conference table, but currently another Whitelighter had a small emergency that had to be taken care of immediately. Still, he watched the handheld under the desk—he didn't want the other Elders to see what he was doing, just in case he was doing something wrong.

The head Elder, Yasien, cleared his voice, looking with some amusement at Cupid. "So, any new developments in the Cole-Phoebe department?"

Cupid grinned and nodded. He had always liked Yasien—least stuffed up of the Elders. "They're getting along just fine. Phoebe's doing remarkably well with him."

"Well, if Cupid's done playing house," the severe woman to the right of Yasien griped, "maybe we can actually do something to get the Charmed One and our Elder out."

"It's not as simple as that," another voice spoke up suddenly. It was Eaton, back from his information scouting.

"What are you saying?" asked another Elder.

He took a deep breath before responding. "There may be a chance that demons have been transported to the same parallel world that Phoebe and Leo are in."


	14. Pain is Pleasure

**A/N:** I'm back! After a not-so-long-hiatus, which was totally involuntary I tell you. Not only did FF's messed up servers get in the way of me posting, I had gotten a rather severe case of writer's block for this _particular_ chapter, but no worries; everything is flowing well again.

Also, I'm a bit curious for some information on Magic School since I watch the newest seasons and episodes erratically at most. It is like a Harry Potter/Hogwarts kind of thing, where kids go for _all_ of their education? Is it a boarding school? Or is just a kind of supplementary school, along with "mortal" school? Just wanted know. Thanks if you answer!

This chapter is rather long, just so you know. Enjoy!

**Love's Intervention  
****_Chapter Fourteen: Pain is Pleasure_**

"My God, Phoebe," whispered Prue as she and Piper stared at their youngest sister. "I didn't know you could do that."

"I know. It's so…mind-boggling. I mean, you see it all the time on TV and such, but it's just incredible." Piper assented.

"You can do it too, you know, just with a bit of training," Phoebe informed her sisters.

Prue grinned. "I'm not even sure if I believe _you_. You haven't shown us anything really impressive yet, and you know what they say—you have to see it to believe it."

Phoebe rolled her eyes and contemplated on what she could do to show her sisters what she meant. She stood still for a few seconds, and then got ready, both her sisters watching her with wide eyes. Phoebe crouched down, then suddenly launched herself into a spinning high kick from her Tae kwon do training, blending it with a few thrust punches and ended her display with another low kick that cleared the floor around her.

Prue and Piper immediately burst into applause, Piper whistling a bit as well. "That was crazy, Phoebe!" she exclaimed.

"God, doesn't that hurt?" Prue asked. "I mean, it looks like a lotta fun, but isn't it a bitch to train through?"

Phoebe nodded. In all actuality, Phoebe was now practicing her martial arts with a body that was obviously not used to her type of training. She winced inwardly when she remembered the searing pain that reached from her inner thigh to her knee when she attempted to high kick, a pain unthinkable with her Charmed muscles. Apparently, without demon attacks, her interest and training in martial arts had waned, even though she began learning in NY. With some heavy duty stretching, long practice sessions, and some encouragement from her old Jay-Z albums, her body here was now more or less in the same shape as it should be, enough for her to put on a display for her sisters.

The three of them were at the Manor, since Phoebe's two older sisters had insisted to help her get ready for her second date with Cole. They even called up Cole to make him meet Phoebe there. It's been too long since the two of them had sent Phoebe off on a date, they had declared.

"Hey you guys, wanna learn some basic moves now?" Phoebe offered. It appalled her to know that Piper and Prue had no real means of protecting themselves; even if there were no demons, Phoebe would feel much better if there were at least a bit better trained against the regular evils of the world.

Phoebe had her sisters get into position, adjusted them for a few minutes, then demonstrated a few basic punches and kicks. Her sisters both got the hang of the punching almost at once, so Phoebe decided to move on with a kick.

"Prue, let's start with you first," Phoebe said. "Now, crouch down, and extend your leg…good!" Phoebe encouraged as she rushed forward when Prue began to lose her balance. "Maybe we should do that a little quicker, so you don't fall down and all…"

Prue grinned at her youngest sister. "Sure thing, teacher," she teased slightly.

With a small wince, Phoebe thought of Paige, but immediately bit it back, covering it with laughter. "Oh, please." Phoebe adjusted Prue's position a little more. "Try it."

Prue kicked to the side—it was a good kick, Phoebe had to admit, for someone's first time, but a little off to the side, as her foot connected with the telephone, knocking it completely off the table.

"No!" Piper cried, out of reflex. Phoebe ran forward again to help steady Prue, then looked back to her middle sister. What Phoebe saw puzzled her greatly. Piper's hands—they were in the same exact stance she put them in whenever she froze something. Still, the telephone landed with a heavy thud and Piper shook out of her posture, hurrying over to check if her phone was broken.

Phoebe pondered over this as Prue muttered something about muscle pain. Now that she thought of it, there were many little habits that her non-magical sisters had that completely mirrored the habits of her magical sisters. Prue would swipe her hand around whenever she got annoyed, the same exact way she used to do in the magical world while using her telekinesis. Whenever she concentrated on something, her head would droop down, almost to her chest, reminiscent of the way Prue let go of her body to astral-project. And Piper—whenever Dan did something particular to irk her, her hands would twitch, like she was trying to blow something up.

Phoebe was shook out of her thoughts with an exclamation from Piper. "It's almost 7:15! Cole's supposed to meet you at 8! You're sweaty, we haven't picked out anything for you to wear—go, hurry up, take a shower!"

With that, Phoebe's two sisters bum-rushed her to the bathroom, leaving her little room to think of anything else.

* * *

"We're here," Cole announced as he turned off the engine and leaned back a bit into his seat. He turned to Phoebe. "Feel like getting out?"

"Well, I don't see why not," Phoebe responded, taking off her seat belt and stepping out of the car. She was immediately hit by a slight chill, but she shook it off. She was wearing more appropriate clothing for the weather, but hadn't anticipated the cold evening breeze.

Cole, for his part, had already started going forward and motioned for Phoebe to follow him. She did, quite curious about where he was going to bring them. He had driven the car up to a rather remote state park off the edge of San Francisco. The place that he had parked the car did not seem a suitable place for a BMW at all; the cement was old, with faint white parking lines barely visible, and the pavement quickly faded to earth and trees with a few steps away from the car.

Phoebe had to hurry a bit to catch up with Cole, who was moving extremely quickly, almost like he was nervous. Her heart dropped a bit. Why would he be nervous? Her old suspicions and fears slowly started to emerge…from a slight distance, she saw him pause at what seemed like a clearing. She lifted her arm to clear away the brush in her way, and stood in awe at the sight in front of her.

"The scene, it's beautiful," she gasped, slowing walking up toward where Cole was.

At her side, Cole visibly relaxed. "Yeah, it is, isn't it?" he agreed. They were standing on a crag, with all of San Francisco in front of them, a private window of the city they lived in. "Too bad we missed the sunset."

Phoebe pointed. "Not quite," she said, indicating toward the far horizon, where shades of faded reds and purples could still be seen. She walked a stretch until she was a yard or two away from the very edge, which ended in a sharp cliff. She sat down, Cole sitting behind her and wrapping his arms around her, half pulling her into his lap.

"It's so peaceful here," she murmured, leaning her head against Cole's back and basking in his warmth. "How did you ever find a place like this?"

"I've always liked this park, liked to explore it a little bit," he said, putting his head close to hers. "And as soon as I hit upon this place, I just liked it. There's such a sense of security, serenity here."

Phoebe twisted her head to look at Cole, her eyes soft. "You've never shown anyone else this place, have you?" she asked.

Cole shook his head no, and held Phoebe closer to him. Phoebe turned her head back to just simply gaze at the view, and he lightly rested his chin on top of her head. They sat in silence for a while, the birds twittering in the background, the two of them just content to be in each other's company.

Just as Cole was contemplating on where they should go for dinner, since he had only thought about this part of the date, his phone rang noisily, disturbing the peace of the park. Phoebe jerked with a start, and Cole groaned, reaching into his pocket. Why couldn't he have left the damn thing at home?

"What?" he grunted into the speaker.

"Hey Cole! How are you?"

"What the hell are you calling me for, Phillip?" Cole said, clearly irritated.

"Well, see, I have a tiny little favor to ask of you…"

"No way. Not now. You owe me one too many favors already," Cole answered sharply, his voice rising.

"Oh, please Cole, if not for me, then for the Hartford case, huh?"

"What do you mean, the Hartford case?"

"See, my laptop kinda messed up, meaning, well, the papers that I had prepared for the appointment that I'm going to have with the DA tomorrow are gone. Could you get your computer for me and send them to my desktop?"

Cole groaned and rubbed his face with his free hand. He and Phillip had a support system where most of their documents would be stored in each others' computers, mainly because Phillip could remember to send an email with attachments to it but could never for his life remember to save _anything_ on a floppy. "Phillip, I'm in the middle of something here, and my computer's at home."

"Oh, come ooon," Phillip whined over the phone. "Just a quick pop over, it can't kill you. For the Hartford case?"

Cole sighed. He had been helping Phillip with the Hartford case for nearly a month now, and didn't want it to go to waste. But his date would be practically ruined, if he were to go and do work right smack dab in the middle of it. Cole was about to just go ahead and tell Phillip no when Phoebe put a hand on his arm. Cole muttered into his cell to ask for a second and pressed the mute button. "Yeah?" Cole asked Phoebe.

"Look, if you have some work to do, go right ahead and do it, I really don't mind," Phoebe said. "I can definitely relate."

"You sure?" Cole said a little doubtfully. When she nodded in confirmation, Cole gave her a grateful smile and un-muted his phone, telling Phillip very explicitly that he could afford a new laptop and that he should go and buy one very soon. Phillip, of course, took that as a yes, and so they hung up and Cole and Phoebe reluctantly pulled themselves away from the crag.

"Did I ever tell you how amazing and understanding you are, by the way?" Cole said to Phoebe after he had explained the situation and while they were heading toward his home.

"It's really no big deal," Phoebe said quietly. "I know what it feels like, when your…line of duty becomes more important than anything else." This she said without quite meeting Cole's eyes.

But if Cole thought Phoebe's choice of words were puzzling, he didn't show it, as the red light turned green and he stepped on the gas. After a few more minutes, he spoke. "Here we are."

Phoebe looked up, shaking herself from her thoughts—when she recognized where they were. She paled slightly as she slowly got out of the car. Cole offered her his arm. "Don't worry about the car, the valet's got it," he said.

Phoebe nodded, swallowing. Arm in arm, they walked into the apartment building, the one that Phoebe had come to consider as a symbol of everything she wanted to forget.

They took the elevator up to the top floor, and while Cole calmly strode into the penthouse, Phoebe lingered in the elevator, staring from her vantage point at the apartment she had very briefly called home. Cole turned back to see that Phoebe wasn't following, and smiled a bit. "You can come out, the place won't hurt you," he said.

"That's what you think," Phoebe muttered, though so quietly she didn't even hear herself say it. She stepped out and the elevator door closed behind her with a light ping as she observed the penthouse. It certainly seemed lived in, more like a home than the identical one she had shared with Cole back in her magical world, which was surgically clean to the point of being painful. It didn't seem to be littered with booze either, as the place had been when it was just Cole living there.

Cole saw her staring uncomfortably at her surroundings. "It's a big space for a bachelor pad," he acknowledged, thinking that she might be feeling awkward at the wealth he was displaying. "Make yourself at home," he continued, "while I send the files over to Phil."

Phoebe nodded again, though she didn't sit down. Instead, she wandered slowly around the apartment, taking in both the familiar and the foreign. She gazed at the glass coffee table, where a stale mug and a few crumbs were residing. She took a step toward the bedroom, and looked briefly through the partially open door before turning and heading toward the fireplace. She put her hand on the mantle, where a picture of the two of them had once been, and let her gaze settle on that empty spot.

"Phoebe?" Cole's voice made her turn around. "I sent Phillip the file. I'm really sorry about all that. What do you want to do about dinner?"

Phoebe shrugged, not really looking at him. Cole cursed inwardly. He really shouldn't have agreed to give Phillip the files; she was acting distant again, and he definitely did not want that to happen. "Do you want to go to a restaurant, or—"

"How about we just stay here," Phoebe said suddenly. She had a sudden urge to stay in the penthouse that had caused her so much grief—she couldn't describe it. After years of avoiding every scrap of evidence of her life with Cole, now she simply didn't want to leave. She gave a small smile. "How does ordering in sound to you?"

An hour later, the couple was sitting on the floor, half-eaten Chinese food cartons scattered around them. They sat in amicable silence while Phoebe absentmindedly swirled some duck sauce into her rice. Suddenly, she turned to Cole. He looked up and smiled at her, the smile that she knew so well. "So, tell me something about yourself," she said, briefly thinking back to the first dates she had with magical-Cole. "No," she continued, cutting off Cole when he opened his mouth to speak. "Not a story about Phillip, or you and Phillip, or your work. Something about _you_. Anything." For some reason, her words came out more like a plea and less like casual date conversation.

Cole thought this out for a second, knowing that she was serious. It was true—he had spent most of the night either listening or relaying stories of the antics of his friends. He couldn't help it—he was a secretive man by nature. This time, however, he didn't need that little voice in the back of his head to know that she wanted a real answer, so he gave one.

"You're probably going to think I'm crazy," he began, watching Phoebe sardonically raise her eyebrows at his remark, "but sometimes…" he stopped. "You're probably going to think I'm crazy."

Phoebe smiled a small smile. "Go on," she coaxed him, knowing exactly how hard it was to have him open up, even when he was willing to.

Cole nodded, encouraged. "Sometimes I feel so empty. Like part of me is missing. Like there's this huge gaping hole inside of me that I can't fill up no matter what. I can't really describe it, I don't know what word I can use, but—"

"Void." Phoebe's voice was flat and dull, and her eyes were unreadable.

"Yes, that's exactly it. That's the exact word I would use." He looked at her and immediately regretted telling his stupid story. It sounded so—_idiotic_, even to him, that he had never told anybody else before. He was sure that Phoebe now thought of him as a madman. But he had been so sure that she would understand… He tried to downplay what he had just said. "So, do you think I'm insane?"

Phoebe shook her head, her eyes averted from his, but Cole still saw that they were brimmed with tears.

Every other thought flew out the window as he went forward and scooped Phoebe into his arms. All that mattered was that she was OK, that she wouldn't cry, that she would feel safe and secure in his arms. Phoebe hardly resisted when he reached out to hold her, and a stray tear fell before she pushed them all back. She had gotten used to swallowing her tears a long time ago.

Cole spoke softly as Phoebe calmed. "I'm sorry if I upset you…"

"No," she said back, looking into his eyes. "It's fine. I don't think you're crazy either," she added with a half-smile, "but you've made me curious. Tell me more. Like," she pressed on as he didn't say anything, "When do you feel the void most? When do you feel it the least?"

Cole shrugged. "I feel it everywhere, really. But there are some places where I don't feel it as much. One's the mausoleum—my family's mausoleum. The other…well, it's more of a connection. The Manor, Piper and Dan's house? I kept going over to the Manor because I was always searching for something there—I didn't know what, but something. I think Prue got pretty pissed off at me because of that because she thought I was stalking her or something after we stopped dating, but I wasn't."

"Well, did you find what you wanted?" Phoebe asked, her eyes fixed intensely on his face.

"You know what, I think I have," he said quietly. "And I found it at the Manor, believe it or not. Looks like I was searching the right place."

"What?" asked Phoebe a bit apprehensively.

Cole cupped his hand against Phoebe's cheek. "You." He smiled as Phoebe blinked, then gently lifted her chin and kissed her.

It began as a soft, slow kiss; an almost timid one as they tenderly probed each other's mouths, then slowly it began to escalate as they kissed each other harder, Phoebe's hands in Cole's hair as he roamed his own hands along her back. Phoebe leaned back as Cole went down with her, his body already partially on top of hers. Phoebe's hands had already traveled to Cole's collar when they momentarily stopped, gasping for breath. Phoebe's eyes flittered open.

"I can't believe I'm letting myself do this," she said, both to him and herself.

"Then let me make it worth your while," Cole promised. As he leaned in again, Phoebe pushed him back slightly. "What?" he said, the hurt evident in his voice.

Phoebe looked to her right and left. "Not on the floor."

Cole grinned widely. "If you insist." He stood up, swept Phoebe up in his arms, and carried her to his bedroom, already kissing her while on his way.


	15. Life, Laughter and the BannerHerald

**A/N:** Before we start, thanks to all my wonderful reviewers, as always. You guys rock! 

Second; consider this a kind of super-early holiday gift to you all. I originally hadn't planned to make this chapter an actual _chapter_, but I thought that it would be fine and I extended it to make Chapter 15 lol did any of you guys get that?. Anyways, it's a fun chapter, still significant of course but I've decided that we all need it. So, hope you enjoy, and of course reviews are always highly appreciated!

Oh and by the way, the horizontal line from quickedit isn't working today for some reason...so you guys'll just have to make do

**Love's Intervention  
**_**Chapter Fifteen: Life, Laughter, and The Banner-Herald**_

Cole smiled tenderly as he gazed at the sleeping form next to him. Phoebe was facing him, her eyes closed, her arms clutching the sheets to her. Cole encircled his arms around her, causing Phoebe to sigh sleepily and snuggle closer.

Cole smiled again. This felt right—this _was_ right. Just take last night…_last night_, Cole thought as a slightly ecstatic look crossed his face. That was perfect, if anything could be considered perfect. It was like Phoebe knew every intimate inch of his body. And he knew that he gave her the same amount of pleasure that she gave him, if the way she called his name was any indication. It was just _right_. He brushed a wisp of hair that fell across her face.

Suddenly, her brow furrowed, and she turned over slightly. She turned again, her body listless. Cole tried holding her tighter, which only caused her to fight harder, surprising him with her strength. "No," she murmured in her sleep, her voice raspy and desperate. "No," she said louder. "Help…Leo, help…"

Cole froze. Leo?

She continued thrashing about, as her cries rose in volume. "No…help her…Leo, help…help…no…_PRUE_!" She shot straight up from the bed, her eyes wide with fear and her breath coming out in short bursts. As she continued, her eyes became even larger as she buried her hands in the sheets and looked wildly around her.

"Phoebe?" Cole inquired softly, sitting up himself and putting a calming hand on her shoulder. She turned toward him, frightened, before she finally realized all her circumstances and relaxed.

"Oh, shit…" she whispered, then buried her head in his chest. "Oh, God," she said, as she began to cry.

Cole stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. "Bad dream?" he asked softly.

"It was bad, alright," she answered grimly, gaining control of her tears. She sighed and leaned against Cole. "I was dreaming about something trivial and stupid, when suddenly I was back in the Manor. Piper and…Prue were lying on the ground. But he couldn't…Leo couldn't…couldn't heal her. And then I closed my eyes and when I opened them Prue was lying in the street in front of a stopped car, in the same exact position, the blood still coming out of her head…" she drew in a sharp breath. "Oh, Prue," she whispered.

"Its fine," Cole soothed. "Prue's fine, I'm sure. Just a bad dream. It was just a dream." Phoebe said nothing. "Who's Leo?" Cole suddenly asked, unable to help himself.

"What do you mean, who's Leo? You know who—" Phoebe stopped suddenly and bit her lip. She had forgotten for a second that he really didn't know. "Leo's like a brother to me, he's a doctor. Ex-husband of one of my closest friends."

"Ex-husband, huh?" Cole murmured, holding Phoebe closer to his body without realizing he was doing so.

"Not because they wanted to," Phoebe sighed. "They still love each other so much. They were always the model of everything I ever wanted in a relationship. But it wasn't something they had any control over."

"If two people truly love each other, then nothing can get in between that," Cole announced firmly, softly kissing the top of Phoebe's head. She chuckled sadly in response.

"You'd be surprised."

He looked at her. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked sharply, more than he intended.

"It's true," Phoebe said softly.

Cole twisted Phoebe's body slightly so that she was facing him. "Give me one instance," he challenged her, "One example where love doesn't win out."

Phoebe said nothing and stared at a point on the wall beyond him. Oh, she had plenty of real life examples, but what the hell could she say? "Romeo and Juliet," Phoebe taunted.

"Technically they were together in the end," Cole countered.

"Yeah," Phoebe bit back, "With their families in mourning and innocent friends from both sides dead. Is it worth it for them to be together in death while causing the rest of the world pain?"

"You know, I thought the whole point of the story was that after they died, the two families saw the error of their ways and decided to be friends instead of enemies," Cole pointed out.

Phoebe scoffed. "Like that'll ever happen," she muttered to herself. Good and evil reconciling because the two of them died together? Not a chance in heaven _or_ hell.

"What was that?" Cole asked, his voice light and teasing. He didn't want to start this morning off on the wrong foot, especially when it had been so promising just a few minutes before. He began to trace circles on Phoebe's back.

"Nothing," she replied. "Besides, its way too early in the morning to be analyzing Shakespeare, don't you think?"

"Probably. I hope it's not too early for this." He planted a soft kiss right behind her earlobe. "Or this." He traced kisses down her neck as his hands passed across her body, eliciting a small shudder from her. Cole paused, looking up at Phoebe's face. Her eyes were closed; her lips parted just the slightest. She opened them and stared directly into his, as her mouth curled up into a small mischievous smile.

"Never," she whispered right before she pushed him back on the bed and dived in herself.

:------------------------------------------:

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" called Piper as she rushed to the Manor door. She opened it to reveal Prue holding a newspaper up next to her face.

"Have you seen today's _Banner-Herald_?" Prue greeted Piper as she stepped into the house.

"No, because that newspaper is total and utter crap," Piper replied, raising her eyebrows as they walked into the living room. "Don't tell me you read that thing."

Prue rolled her eyes. "Of course I don't. I work for the media too, remember? I know that the _Banner-Herald_ is just a few not-quite-nude pictures away from being a supermarket tabloid." They sat down on one of the couches and Prue set the paper on the coffee table. "One of my colleagues told me about it." She flipped to page 5.

Piper stared at the page, then lifted the paper off the table and onto her lap so that she could read it better. '_TRUE LOVE? MISTRIAL!'_ screamed the title of the article. Underneath was the smaller, less flashier subtitle; 'Our Verdict on Cole Turner and His Appeal-ing Love Interest'.

Piper looked up. "Exactly how many lawyer jokes _are_ in this thing?"

"Too many to count?" Offered Prue. "Look at who wrote it."

She looked. "Veronica Adams?" she uttered, a bit disbelievingly. "The paper's second-most notorious gossip columnist?"

Prue grinned. "Read on," she encouraged as she sat back and waited for her sister's reaction.

Piper raked her eyes over the picture of Cole and Phoebe at the Silvertop premiere, then proceeded to read the article aloud. "Ladies, hold on to your seats. Cole Turner, the _Banner-Herald_'s favorite lawyer, has found a new love, and we hear that she's here to stay. Most known as the dashing poster boy of law firm Jack McCarter & Kline, Mr. Turner is also notorious for breaking hearts all over San Francisco with his careless dating ways and his charming smile. Recently, however, the young lawyer has been spotted with a woman identified as Phoebe Halliwell, most notably at the opening of Max Bernard's upscale restaurant, The Silvertop. Will the new girl tame the tiger?

"Not much is known about Turner's sweet-faced mystery girl. Our witnesses say she's a frequent on the party circuit and that she's currently attending San Francisco University, but as to where the couple met and how far into their relationship the facts differ. They are not married; the _Banner-Herald_, however, has exclusive info that the couple did indeed recently spend a week of luxurious pampering at a secluded spot in St. Tropez.

"At the end of the trial, though, we must come to our senses and face the facts. We give the couple very little time before Cole decides to drop this juvenile school girl. Ms. Phoebe Halliwell, we're sorry to say, is acquitted: because no one can steal away Cole Turner's heart."

Piper looked up and turned toward her sister. They stared at each other for a whole ten silent seconds, then collapsed onto each other in hysterical laughter.

"Oh…my God!" Prue managed out between bursts. "I've been holding all that in since I read that damn thing."

"When they find out that Cole went out with you before Phoebe," Piper gasped, "They're gonna have a heart attack."

The sisters simply looked at each other and started laughing again.

:------------------------------------------:

Phillip sat at his desk, nosily click-clacking away at his office desktop when Cole barged into his office.

"Saylor," Cole growled, a menacing look in his eye. Phillip looked up and practically squeaked. Cole was undeniably his good friend as well as his colleague, but Cole—he could be so _intimidating_ at times.

"Cole!" Phillip said brightly, his voice coming out a little higher than he intended. "Did I ever tell you how grateful I am for the file you sent me?"

Cole put his hands on Phillip's desk and leaned in, towering over his friend's frame. "You called me in the middle of my date and broke up all the plans that we had. Thank God for you that Phoebe is a wonderful, understanding woman. If it wasn't for her, you—not to mention the Hartford case—would be dead." Phillip looked at him and swallowed.

"Well, uh—"

"Where's your laptop?" Cole asked abruptly, though still keeping that deadly voice.

Phillip didn't dare to lie to him. "It's there. In the laptop bag. In the corner."

Cole straightened up and walked over to the corner of Phillip's desk. Phillip realized, a little too late, that a copy of the day's _Banner-Herald_ was sitting right on top of his bag. He sputtered slightly as Cole slowly picked up the newspaper. Cole's face became even darker as he deliberately put it to one side and picked up the bag. He went back to Phillip's desk, took the laptop out, and put it on the desk, Phillip watching Cole's moves all the while.

Cole drew out a hammer from his briefcase, and Phillip, even in his terror, could recognize it as one of the most top-of-the-class hammers out on the market. Cole gave Phillip a menacing look, and gave the laptop another menacing look. They were both silent, Phillip just waiting for Cole to start bashing the motherboard out of the computer.

Suddenly, Cole gave Phillip a broad smile and reached again into his briefcase, this time pulling out a gift bow. "I know you love your tools, and I remember you saying something about a worn-out hammer," he said. He tacked the bow onto the hammer and put it on the desk next to Phillip's unharmed laptop. "Happy Early Birthday."

Phillip stared at him, gape-mouthed as Cole cheerfully turned to leave. Suddenly, he stopped, and Phillip involuntary pushed himself further into his chair. "Two things," Cole said. "One, can I have your _Banner-Herald_? Haven't read the article yet." Phillip nodded mutely. "Second…Phillip? Don't ever change your laptop, OK?" Cole gave him another smile, picked up the newspaper, and left.

Phillip sat still, letting the events of the past five minutes sink in. Gradually, he smiled as well, looking appreciatively at his new hammer. There could only be one reason for Cole's behavior.

"She's that good, huh?" Phillip said aloud.


	16. Night Life

**Love's Intervention  
**_**Chapter Sixteen: Night Life**_

The music was pumping, the dance floor was thudding, and Phoebe had not felt anything like was she was feeling in a long time.

She was curled up on Cole's lap in the private booth of P3, a strawberry daiquiri not far away. Prue and Piper were also there, and they all were having an uproarious time as those around them danced the night away. The curtains were also drawn to give them some privacy. After that _Banner-Herald_ article, everybody else had immediately taken notice to Cole and Phoebe. It probably wasn't a good idea for them to be out in a club right after such an article, but she knew that Piper could do with the publicity. According to her memory, P3 was supposed to be in a sort of slump right about now, and it wouldn't hurt to help the business a bit.

"I seriously can't believe the _Banner-Herald_ called me a 'juvenile school girl'," Phoebe pretended to pout as she reached for her daiquiri.

Cole smiled and squeezed her hand even as Prue chuckled. "Well, you are in college," she pointed out. "And there's a good age difference between you guys. What is it…seven years? That ought to raise some eyebrows."

Phoebe suddenly choked on her drink, making Cole pound lightly on her back. He didn't have to worry, however, because she broke out into laughter, causing the other two sisters and Cole to exchange slightly bewildered looks. Phoebe calmed herself down and leaned her head back onto his chest. "Oh, Cole," she sighed contentedly, closing her eyes.

"Hey, you tired?" Cole asked her, lowered his head so that it was close to hers. "Then again, neither of us got too much sleep last night." They shared a giggle.

Piper looked on the verge of a sarcastic comment before her cell phone rang. She checked the Caller ID curiously, then stood up. "I'm taking this," she said. "I'm going into the office, it's too noisy out here." The rest of the group nodded as she left the booth.

Phoebe let out another happy sigh, her wide eyes looking around the booth. Could life not be any better than this? No ethereal responsibilities, Prue, _Cole_…

She should get back. Back to her own world. She had to get back. Paige and Piper were counting on her.

Phoebe tried not to let that comment invade her thoughts. She _would_ go back, but she didn't know how. It wasn't from lack of trying. It just simply wasn't possible. Besides, Paige and Piper didn't need her _that_ much. They were the ones with the super powers, and if they were in any real danger, she could always count on Piper and Leo's son. _Leo_, she thought suddenly with a pang of guilt.

"What you thinking of?" Cole said softly, his head still close to hers.

Phoebe turned her head slightly so that her face was facing his. "You," she answered. And it was true. At that moment, she was admiring his facial features, delighting as his hands massaged her sides, looking deeply into his eyes.

"Good," he said back, "because I'm thinking of you." They kissed. Phoebe felt rather than saw Prue good-naturedly rolling her eyes.

When they parted, Phoebe turned toward her eldest sister. "You," she grinned, "I saw you cutting eyes at that guy right before you came into the booth. Wanna go find him?"

Prue harrumphed and flipped her hair. "I'll take the hint. I know I'm not wanted here." She winked at them. She got ready to leave when Piper suddenly burst back into the booth, clearly upset.

Phoebe sat up, exchanged a glance with Prue, then looked back at Piper. "Honey, what's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," she said acidly. "Absolutely positively nothing. Or so that's what my dear _husband_ says."

At this, the other two sisters stood up and hurried to each side of Piper, who looked torn between blowing steam out of her ears and crying until she had no energy to shed a tear. They directed her toward the cushiony couch as she seemed to pick the latter course of action. "He's going to Michigan tomorrow," she said tearily, "And all he could do is tell his own wife the night beforehand. And on the phone, too! Didn't even have the decency to tell me to my own face…" she trailed off as she began to cry.

"What's he going to Michigan for?" Phoebe asked cautiously.

"For _boxing_!" Piper yelled, the tears still streaming down her cheeks. "I haven't seen him much for weeks on end…and now he's leaving for another four days to watch stupid, stupid boxing." She accepted the tissue Prue handed to her and blew into it. "I don't care that his friends go the tickets for him, all he could've done was _tell_ me and I wouldn't be crying now. Annoyed, yes," she sniffled, "but I wouldn't feel like such crap now. Like I'm last on the list of things he thinks about."

"Oh, Piper…" Prue said, and hugged her. Phoebe hugged her as well. "You're the very first thing on the list of things I think about. That and what I'm gonna eat for breakfast."

"Yeah," Phoebe chimed in, "I think about you almost as much as I think about the weather."

Her sisters' words caused Piper to smile a bit and wipe the tears from her eyes. "I'm just being stupid, aren't I?" she said.

"No, you aren't," Phoebe said firmly. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to feel loved. To feel that everything that was once perfect…"

"Is slipping away," Piper finished quietly. They were quiet for a second, then all inexplicitly turned to Cole, who was gazing intently at Phoebe.

Prue stood up. "Come on, sweetie, we're going to clean you up. Come on," she helped her sister get up. "We're going to the bathroom." Cole and Phoebe, now at opposite ends of the booth, watched them go.

Phoebe stood up and walked back to him, intending to sit beside him, but he would have none of that. Instead, he pulled her back into his lap. They sat entwined together for a while, Phoebe's eyes wide open even as Cole slightly drifted off. If she had been looking for guilt, then Piper had provided it. _And I haven't even so much as checked up on poor Leo_, she thought shamefully.

Yet again, Phoebe wouldn't let her thoughts get the best of her. For now, she was going to have a good time, at least. She perked up when she heard the next song that was playing, and shook Cole slightly. "Come on," she said to Cole. "I haven't heard this song in ages. Let's go."

Cole shook his head, a bit groggily yet resolutely. "I'm a terrible dancer."

"I know for a fact you're not. Come on, we're in a club so we've got to dance. And clubs usually don't play slow songs." She stood up and tugged him up as well.

"But the photographers?" Cole asked, playing his last cards.

"Screw them. I like this song. And I want to dance with you. Please?" she added, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist.

Cole sighed. "OK." Phoebe smiled and reached up to give him a peck on the lips when Cole grabbed her body against his and transformed the chaste kiss into a passionate one, knowing that _she_ wouldn't be able to resist.

And so she couldn't. She was already on her back and half his buttons were undone before she could break away long enough to talk. "Piper," she breathed, "will kill us—" her breath quickened as his hand reached under her dress "—if we do it here. Cole…" she could barely get her words out, but managed to stop his hand before she completely lost her cool.

"No," Phoebe said more firmly as she pushed him back. She frowned. "Thanks to you, the song's almost over," she complained.

"Well, that's a pity," Cole said, the glint still in his eyes as he tried to reach for her again.

"Cole!" she spun out of his hold. "Don't. I feel guilty enough as it is." The words slipped out before she had a chance to control them.

He inched forward and wrapped his arms around her, a more comforting gesture than a sexual one. "Why?" he asked her.

"Because, you know, Piper is having enough trouble with L—" Phoebe checked herself before he could notice "Dan, as it is. I feel like I'm throwing salt into the wound by…" she couldn't say it.

"By what? Being with me? Enjoying yourself?" Cole said, smoothing her hair. "You shouldn't worry about that. Piper's your sister. She likes watching you be happy."

"Be happy…" Phoebe echoed.

"Yes. Happy." He turned her slightly and brushed his lips against hers, then stood up. "You said you wanted to dance?"

Phoebe managed to give an amused smile. "In case you haven't noticed, they're playing hard rock now."

"Should that stop us?" He took her hand has she stood up, then gathered her in his arms as they swayed slowly together to the sound of their own music.

* * *

A nondescript man was standing in the shadows of a dark alleyway, glancing about him. If he was seen in a more lighted area, the light would show a man with rounded shoulders and a plain face, and fat hands that looked clumsy attached to its owner. Still, he was standing up straight, in a pitch black suit that matched the alley he was standing in. No one was to be seen.

His posture relaxed slightly, as though he was waiting for someone. Unbeknownst to him, a form in the dark was slowly creeping up on him, a jagged knife held in its hand. The form advanced toward the man's back, slowly, without making a single sound. The figure was ten yards away…five yards away…one yard away…

Suddenly, the tall man spun around and grabbed the figure by the neck and by the hand that was holding the knife at the same time. In less than a second, the knife held by the figure in the shadows was now being pointed directly at the figure's face. "Well, well," the man hissed, not looking so nondescript anymore. His face was animated with hatred, and his eyes almost seemed to glow red if looked at from a certain angle. "Who are you?" the man demanded. "Speak, or I will not hesitant to choke you to death."

The figure tried to gasp out an answer. "I'm sorry, sir," the figure finally gasped out. "I thought you were someone…else…"

The man sneered. "Really, now?" His hand squeezed tighter on the figure's neck, causing the figure to gasp for more air. "Well, I'm sorry too." The man plunged the knife straight into the figure's abdomen, causing the blood the overflow onto the man's hands and causing the figure to let out a final raspy, desperate scream. When the man was sure that the figure was dead, he released his hold on the figure's neck. The figure slumped to the ground.

"Iosld!" A new voice called, dark and menacing. "What have you been doing?"

The round-shouldered man spun around at the voice. "Nothing, Drashan," he said. "Just killed a human, that is all."

"You should not have done that," answered Drashan gravely. The voice stepped out of the shadows and flicked a light at the body on the ground. The light showed an extremely unkempt skinny teenager. "Here, we do not have the benefits that we take for granted."

"What is that?" asked Iosld, pointing at the source of the light.

"This is what humans call a flashlight. Since we cannot see in the dark in these human bodies, this will help. And it lasts longer than candles." The flashlight illuminated Drashan's features, showing a man about five inches taller than Iosld who carried himself in a terrifyingly intimidating manner. "Have you seen the others?"

"We are here," answered a feminine voice.

The two men turned around toward its direction, and Drashan shined the flashlight. In its beam, a woman and another man were clearly seen, walking purposely toward Iosld and Drashan.

"Raisa. Menall," greeted Drashan suspiciously.

The female, with eyes that looked almost unnaturally like a cat's, stepped forward. "We were exploring," she said solemnly in a cold yet fluid voice, "the possibilities of this new…world. Something that would be to our advantage if we did more of it during the last couple of days."

Drashan raised his eyebrows in a most sinister manner. "Are you questioning my authority, Raisa?"

She lowered her head. "Never, Drashan. I am merely suggesting a way. Many demons have perished before us in order to get to the—"

"You think I don't know that, Raisa? Do you not know that all of the Underworld knows? There is a reason why the four of us…together…were sent. One cannot do it alone."

"No, Drashan."

Drashan was not fooled. He knew that he was in a precarious situation as far as his control and his life was concerned. Back in the magical world, he was the naturally chosen leader because of his superior powers and his tactical skills. Now, however, ever since they had been somehow transported to this new world, his position was fair game, especially for Raisa, whose cunning and physical strength closely matched his own.

They had spent the first two days as much confusion as high level demons could manage. The four had set out to shimmer from the Underworld to the surface at the same time, when some ripple in the universe itself knocked them off their feet and in all different directions. Drashan, for one, woke up to find himself as one of the top members of the Russian Mafia on a mission in Chicago. Mendall ended up in a small town in Thailand, involved in a giant international prostitution ring. Iosld became a serial killer, wanted in eight states across the Northeast of the United States. And Raisa turned out to be the wife of the CEO of one of the largest companies in the world.

As soon as each of them had figured out their circumstances, they lost no time in preparing to travel to San Francisco. From there, they frequented the shady spots of the city until they found each other. They each had a human form and so reverted to it in this non-demon world. They had spent the rest of their time altering their plans and finding other modes of power that they could use instead of their lost magical abilities.

"Iosld," said Drashan, turning to him. "Have you watched the Charmed Ones' doings?"

"As you know, the three in this world do not live in the same house on the Nexus, and so tracking them makes it harder. However, the three do not seem to realize their circumstances, not even the one who is supposed to be dead."

"I do not know," Mendall spoke up suddenly, "Why we cannot attack them now. As of now, they are as magically vulnerable as us, while we have the human means to kill them. If we act now, would it not be the easiest job in a demon's lifetime?"

"Fool," hissed Drashan. "We did not simply lose our powers, and neither have they. This is a subordinate world. If we inflict damage now, it would not make a difference, except cause us nuisances with the human authorities."

Raisa spoke up, as she was the only one who dared to talk back to Drashan. "Well, then, what do you suggest us to do? We cannot simply sit here for the rest of the infinity and wait for fate to intervene."

Instead of getting mad at Raisa's cheek, however, a small twisted smile formed on Drashan's face. "That, my dear," he said, "you do not need to worry about."

Raisa flushed with anger at being belittled by the pet name Drashan had given her. "Would you mind telling us what you have in mind, _Drashan?_" she snapped.

Drashan's smile became wider. Raisa was one of the most stunningly beautiful demons ever to grace the Underworld, and her anger had only caused his lust for her to amplify. Still, he knew there was much more to Raisa than a perfect body and pouty lips. There was a reason she ended up as the seemingly innocent wife of a power mogul. Most likely, if she really lived this mortal life, she would have much more power than the mogul. The thought sobered Drashan, who turned to Raisa which a solemn expression.

"Soon," he said to her, his mind already flicking back to his plan in dealing with the Charmed Ones. "Soon."


	17. Sisterly Knowledge

**Love's Intervention  
****_Chapter Seventeen: Sisterly Knowledge_**

Piper trotted down to the Manor's kitchen, intent on a glass of water. Her footsteps reverberated around the house as she padded to the fridge and took out a pitcher. The house was dark and utterly silent.

Piper herself was slightly disappointed. She had half expected one of her sisters to be here, but obviously, she was wrong. She sighed as she headed back upstairs. _Paige is probably over at Richard's_, she thought. But most probably Phoebe was awake, lying in her bed, contemplating over her failed relationship. _In the end,_ Piper thought grimly, _Jason was not the one for her_.

She wanted to go to sleep. She really did. But being by herself in a king-sized bed with only her covers to warm her made her feel like the loneliest woman in the world. Sure, before Leo used to always orb out in the middle of the night, but she had always known that he would be back with her, to hold her and love her, to be the wonderful husband he truly was.

Piper walked past Paige's bedroom door, but suddenly paused outside Phoebe's. She pressed her ear to the door. She did not hear a sound.

_Maybe she really did fall asleep_, Piper thought. Piper knew that was an anomaly; she had been keeping closer tabs on her younger sister than anyone knew, especially after Leo became an Elder.

Every since Leo had left her life, Piper had taken up to wandering her room, the hall, the kitchen—anywhere, as long as she avoided that vast, lonely bed until she was dragging her feet with tiredness. And it was this restlessness that caused Piper to be aware of Phoebe's. Whenever Piper was in the hall or particularly close to the wall that separated her and Phoebe's room, her sensitive ears would pick up a slight rustling sound that she quickly realized was the sound of Phoebe tossing and turning. Piper knew from their earlier years of sharing a room together (Grams always thought that they had to reach a certain age before they could have a room of their own) that Phoebe was always a sound sleeper unless something was bothering her. So Piper began watching her younger sister.

And as Piper watched Phoebe, she noticed many things that she had not noticed before. Her sister's newfound quietness and sobriety, Piper observed, and the slightly haunted look that Phoebe would have for the slightest of seconds. And Jason—Piper knew without a doubt that Phoebe did indeed love him, but even as the non-empath in the family, she knew there was a little something that Phoebe didn't feel for him, a little something that, try as she might, she couldn't bring herself to do.

Piper sighed inaudibly and leaned against the wall. If she thought back to it, she really had been insensitive to Phoebe. She had been so wrapped up in her own wonderful life—a child on the way, her and Leo—that she totally failed to see what Phoebe was going through. Oh, she had _tried_, but Piper didn't really understand the loss that Phoebe had suffered until she had suffered it herself.

And as she wrapped her arms around herself, as if to protect herself from coldness, she knew that it was only here, alone and in the dark, where she could admit this. In the morning, she would be back to supporting Phoebe through her breakup by supplying comfort food, telling her that she _will_ find her one true love and actually believing it. In the unobstructed night, however, she knew the truth about her little sister as well as about herself. They were not going to find their true loves; they had already found them. Finding and keeping, however, were two separate things all together.

Slowly, Piper turned toward her room, her feet dragging; still not ready to face that vast emptiness by herself.

* * *

Phoebe sat in her manicure seat, staring pointedly at her customer's nails as she added the top coat. She was feeling more than a little conspicuous as most of the people in the salon were trying to pretend they were not staring at her while wondering if she was the same woman who ended up in the pages of yesterday's _Banner-Herald_.

She really was becoming a regular in that tabloid newspaper. Not only did she manage to find herself in the paper again, this time in forms of pictures taken while she was at P3, she had learned that a forum that discussed her and Cole's relationship was now up on the web. It seemed like all the people in the city knew about her—her classmates in college, her professors, the customers at Anne's—in fact, the only ones in the nail salon who seemed unperturbed were the two Korean sisters that owned the salon, only commenting blandly on her almost-punctuality.

Phoebe did not need a single wisp of magical power to know what the rest were thinking. _Is that really her? Why is she working at Anne's Nails? Should I call Veronica Adams and tell her? Will I get money if I call Veronica Adams and tell her? Does Cole Turner know she works here? Should I ask for an autograph? How long will it be before Cole Turner cheats on her?_ Phoebe sighed and finished the pinky. "You're done," she said, smiling politely at the customer.

The customer nodded, paid and tipped, then gave Phoebe a final odd look before she left for the dryers. Phoebe slumped back in her seat and checked her watch. She was almost done. Almost…

"Phoebe?"

Phoebe turned her head upwards toward the voice that had called her name. She smiled as she saw the nice lady she had met a few days ago. "Marjorie?"

"That's me," said the woman kindly as she sat in the seat in front of Phoebe.

"Not that I have any problem with it or anything," Phoebe said, "but why are you back so soon?"

"Because of this." Marjorie placed her hands on the table and Phoebe saw that most of her nail polish had worn off and her nails were almost bitten to the core. Marjorie smiled sheepishly. "I had quite a few number of important meetings with important people over the past few days, and, you know, while in the waiting room—it's definitely a habit I should've kicked a _long_ time ago. But no matter." She shrugged happily. "How are you?"

Phoebe laughed. "I'm good, all things considering," she replied.

"All things considered, huh?" Marjorie repeated, her eyebrows raised. "Now, its not my to meddle, and I'm not expecting any lurid details whatsoever, but I'm just curious to know—how many things written about you are actually true?"

Phoebe squinted slightly, as though thinking. "Some of its true, some of its false—there are a lot of blurry lines, which is the point I think. Sadly, though, I definitely did not go to St. Tropez with him." _Which would have been a lot better the other places you've taken me, Cole_, Phoebe thought grimly. _Hell, the Wasteland, an Egyptian sarcophagus…_

Marjorie grinned. "That's disappointing, I was going to ask you what St. Tropez is like. My sister's honeymooning there."

"Oh, really? Congratulations!" Phoebe exclaimed.

"Yeah, and the guy's not so bad either. I'm telling you, that orange juice revelation of hers—did her very well."

Phoebe suddenly remembered how Marjorie compared her to her sister the first time they had met. Phoebe looked at the older woman uncertainly, the question in her eyes but not on her lips. Minutes passed until Phoebe finally found the courage to speak.

"Marjorie," Phoebe began hesitantly. "Remember what you told me about your sister?"

Marjorie smiled. "Of course I do."

"Well," Phoebe said with a nervous chuckle, "what did your sister…well…realize?"

Marjorie looked at Phoebe with some surprise. "Well, dear, I would've thought that you'd figured it out already."

Phoebe looked at her Marjorie expectantly. Marjorie laughed. "Dear," she said. "It's simple really. She just realized that she was in love."

Phoebe was quiet as she finished Marjorie's nails and barely responded when Marjorie paid. All of this settled it. Phoebe knew what she had to do.

When Marjorie left, Phoebe stood up, nodded toward the Korean sisters to show that she was leaving, and grabbed her coat. Within seconds, she was gone.

**A/N:** Just in case you didn't get it, the first part of this story was Piper in the Charmed, magical world, and in the second part, it was Phoebe in the non-magical world. If you didn't get what I was talking about in the second part of the chapter though (with Marjorie), then you should check back to Chapter Ten. Another chapter of Twice Cursed is up as well. _Happy New Year everyone!! _


	18. Pain is Love

**Love's Intervention  
****_Chapter Eighteen: Pain is Love_**

The Elder headquarters were in a state of panic. The neophyte Whitelighters, those who served little more purpose at the headquarters than to pour coffee (or liquor, if the situation provided) were looking amongst themselves with wide eyes. Meanwhile, the veterans ran about, collecting any sort of useful information they could find. The Elders themselves sat rather still in their chairs, perturbed looks on their faces. Cupid stood several feet from the gathering of Elders, the hood of his sweatshirt now so low over his forehead he couldn't see anything above eye level.

"This is all my fault," he mumbled to himself, though not loud enough for the Elders to hear. "I should have never accepted this damn position. If I kept to my humble little post, all would be nice and well. But _no,_" he said, mocking himself, "I had to take it. I could barely handle Northern California as it was." He sighed. If only he had stuck with the safe, approved plan. If he did, then in a few months Phoebe would meet Leslie. Leslie was a good guy—a bit cocky, very charming, but overall sweet. "Isn't that the way she likes them?" he muttered. And if Leslie didn't work out—Cupid did have a few reservations about him—then there would always be others. Out of the entire globe, he would've found a guy she could be happy with.

But instead, he had used his still-not-quite-familiar powers and launched poor Phoebe into another world without completely thinking through the possible consequences. Though in all seriousness, Cupid thought, this was quite ridiculous. A stranded, elderly Elder, malicious demons—of all things that could have gone wrong, he never suspected that _everything_ would go awry.

He lifted his head as he heard a Whitelighter addressing the Elders. He moved a bit closer to hear what the Whitelighter was saying.

"We have confirmed one demon who is now in the same world that our Elder is temporarily inhabiting. According to our scouts, the said demon is known as Iosld," the Whitelighter solemnly recited. Eaton stirred.

"Who is this Iosld, Eaton?" Yasien asked him. The Elders all leaned slightly forward, waiting for Eaton's explanation—he was, after all, the Elders' unofficial demon information source.

"Iosld," he said gravely, "is known as one of the most merciless killers to ever grace the Underworld. Many of the mortal twentieth century mass murderers were greatly influenced by him. He, however, is quite ambitionless for a demon, and has little to no desire to climb farther in the ranks than he already has. He is most fond of being able to rob the world of life with his own techniques." Eaton looked sharply at the Whitelighter. "He also has no qualms about working with other demons, which may mean that there are more demons with him."

"We do indeed believe that there are more demons with said Iosld," the Whitelighter answered, not changing her tone of voice. "The unofficial, speculative number is three."

"Yes, well," Eaton replied, "Make sure you check these demons first." He grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil and scribbled some names. "Do make sure to check this demoness first—Raisa. Iosld and Raisa have kept their partnership rather quiet and do not regularly work together, but I do know that they work seamlessly when they do. Problems in Asia in the mid-twentieth century were almost their entire doing."

The Whitelighter accepted the piece of paper, nodded curtly, and then. As she did, Eaton heaved a sigh and propped his elbows on the table. "Eaton," Yasien said softly, "you know more than we all do. What does all this mean?"

"Well, you can guess," he said tiredly. "Iosld is incredibly bad luck already, but if Raisa is there with him—it doesn't matter that their demonic powers are inactive. They are quite resourceful by themselves; not only that, but they, unlike other demons, know the concept of teamwork. They are formidable," he finished.

"But is there anything we can _do?_" pressed another Elder.

"Other than the rather inadequate solutions that we've come up with so far, no, there is nothing that this new information provides for us," Eaton replied, an edge of sharpness in his voice.

Cupid nodded to himself. He seemed to have misjudged Eaton—he appeared to be an intelligent, effective man who seemed to view the Elders' shortcomings just as Cupid did. Still, Cupid knew that, at least in this particular case, the shortcomings were no one's fault—except perhaps his own. Cupid sighed again and turned away.

Suddenly, he felt a large ripple in the air. He glanced at the Elders, who looked as shocked as he felt—no one had the ability to directly infiltrate into the Elders' headquarters except the Elders themselves, and even they had to practice before they could do it with ease. Everyone stared at the ripple that was forming a foot or two beyond the head of the Elders' conference table.

But the ones that the Elders and Cupid were looking for did not come out of the ripple. Rather, the ripple diminished and ceased. They all looked at each other in wonder.

"Perhaps we can help," two voices suddenly sounded in eerie unison from behind Cupid.

* * *

Phoebe walked into the reception of the Jack McCarter & Kline building, determination in her step. She took the elevators to the thirty-fourth floor, then asked for information. She was referred to the largest suite on the left.

She nodded at the receptionist and headed toward the suite. She pushed open the opaque glass doors and found herself looking at a very familiar blonde seated at the secretary's desk.

Phoebe drew in a sharp breath, her mind temporarily abandoning her other thoughts.

_Julie._

The demon who Phoebe had vanquished looked at her and smiled politely, a smile that didn't really seem to reach her eyes. "How may I help you?"

Phoebe stammered for a second, struck by her findings. _A place where the dead are still alive and where the living have perished before their time_, an unbidden voice whispered in her mind. Yet that was not the only thing—how did Julie even ever come into existence? There were no demons in this world, of that Phoebe was finally sure, yet here she was, in the flesh. Have all the demons turned into humans here? "I'm looking for Cole," Phoebe said finally. "Cole Turner."

Julie's smile became a few notches colder. "This is his office. Do you have an appointment?"

Human or not, Julie seemed to remain pretty much the same, minus the ability to throw fire. "No," Phoebe answered, her flustered manner gone.

"Well, then, I suggest you sit in the reception area and wait until he's available," Julie replied. She looked Phoebe up and down in the most unflattering manner, then turned her attention toward her desk.

Phoebe seethed. She did not come all the way across town to face the scorn of a demoness she had vanquished, even though Phoebe was not exactly proud that she did so by sending a column of Source-fire through her chest. "That's fine," Phoebe muttered to herself, exasperated yet a bit relieved that she would be able to put this off for a little while longer. "I'll go." She turned toward the exit.

"Phoebe?"

The Halliwell spun around to see Cole come of the room that was a little behind Julie's desk. "Hi," she answered back in a much smaller voice than she intended.

"Hi, baby," Cole replied, a smile on his face as he crossed the room and swept Phoebe up in a long, tender kiss. "Fancy seeing you here," he said, a twinkle in his eye, when they broke apart.

Phoebe smiled almost shyly as she gazed upon his face, reaching up to trace his jaw line with her finger. "Can we go somewhere more private?" she asked, aware of all the people in the reception staring at them.

"Sure," Cole responded. "We'll go to my office." He grinned. "Soundproof."

Phoebe chuckled a bit nervously as he led her toward the room behind Julie's desk. What she was planning to do was going to be hard. She was going to face what she had dodged for so long—it was time for the truth. So wrapped up in what she was going to say, Phoebe didn't even notice Julie shoot her death-looks from the secretary's desk.

"You want a drink?" Cole offered as he shut the door behind them.

"No, it's fine thanks," Phoebe replied distantly as she wandered toward Cole's paper littered desk. She put a hand on one of the papers, then touched the lamp, and the desk. Then she recognized what she was doing, without her realizing it; she was searching for a premonition, even though she couldn't receive one. She quickly withdrew her hand and clasped it in her other hand.

"Phoebe?" asked Cole, concern in his voice. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," Phoebe replied almost too quickly. "Um, I have something to give you." She reached awkwardly into her large tote bag and took out a neatly folded jacket. "Here you go," she said, handing it back to him.

"This is mine," Cole said blankly. "Why are you returning it?"

"Uh, well, you just said it. Because it's yours," Phoebe answered, fighting to keep the tenseness from her tone of voice. There was a beat of silence between them. "Look," Phoebe suddenly said, desperate to get the situation over with. "I think it would be better if we stopped seeing each other."

Cole stared at her. "What?" he asked, as though unable to believe she would suggest such a thing.

"Cole…" Phoebe sighed and turned away, averting her eyes. "Believe me, we'll both be better off if we just end this now."

"Wait, _what?_" Cole asked again, his voice rising. "You can't be serious. You—I—" he seemed at a complete loss for words. "_Why?_"

"Because it'll be painless for the both of us if we don't carry this further, OK?" Phoebe said, almost snapped, as she zipped up her tote bag which was now considerably flattener and lighter. She straightened, compelling her hands to stay motionless at her sides.

"No, not OK," Cole snapped back, anger in his voice and eyes. "I can't believe this. I seriously cannot believe this. What was I for you, huh? A good screw? A fun lay? A toy that you wanted because your sister had it? What?"

"Of all things we have had, that was never it. Never," Phoebe said, fighting to keep her voice devoid of hurt. He had a right to be angry, she knew—so she let the Roger slight pass her.

"Then what? What about last light, the night before…" Cole sputtered and pointed toward the door. "Outside. Outside in the reception area. Our kiss. What was that?"

Phoebe stared at him, forcing back a tear that threatened to fall, taking in his face, his eyes, his stature, drinking in the appearance of the love of her life. "That was goodbye," she whispered, and turned to leave.

_"I love you!"_

Phoebe stopped just in front of the door, one hand ready to twist the doorknob open. She turned just the slightest from her position, her face still hidden from view. "Don't."

"I love you," Cole said deliberately.

"Don't." Her voice was tortured, her breath shallow.

"You can tell me what to do," Cole said. "But you can't tell me what to feel. And you—you can't pretend that you don't feel anything either."

Phoebe paused. "No, I can't," she said softly. Then suddenly, before Cole could stop her, she pulled open the door and ran. She did not notice people staring at her tear stained face; she knew nothing at all, could not think at all. She went straight back to her and Ames' apartment, stopping only at the library to photocopy the article of Paige's death to stick on her bedroom wall.


	19. Johann's Parallel World

**Love's Intervention  
****_Chapter Nineteen: Johann's Parallel World_**

Phoebe sat stiffly in the passenger's seat of Ames' black Corolla, staring pensively out the window. She could not believe that he had brought her here, out of all the stores he could have chosen. Johann's Jewelry. Of course, he didn't know—couldn't have known—but it was too strangely coincidental to her.

"Phoebe? Uh, Phoebe? You OK?"

Phoebe turned to the handsome man sitting in the driver's seat. "I'm fine, Kevin," she said. Kevin frowned at her. The smile she had given him was a little too wan for his taste. "No, really, I am," Phoebe said trying to assure him. "I'm just worried, that, well, you know…" she turned her gaze back toward her side window.

"I told you not to worry," Kevin said almost impatiently. "Ames is _not_ going to find out about this, alright? She is not going to catch us doing _anything_, I made sure of it. This place is the farthest from any of her regular haunts."

"Well," Phoebe sighed as she stepped out of the car. "If you insist."

Kevin smiled as well, the excitement of the day getting to him, as he merrily turned off the car engine and got of the car as well. "I'm telling you, this day will be perfect," he said. "We found a parking spot right in front of the store."

"So?" Phoebe stubbornly insisted. "That doesn't mean anything." Still, she softened, knowing that the day was very important to Kevin. "Look, man," she said, punching her friend lightly on the arm. "Don't listen to me and my negative side comments. I think that this is absolutely wonderful and I am honored to be a part of it."

"Aw, c'mon, I didn't bring you to be my bodyguard," Kevin replied, grinning from ear to ear. "I brought you so that you could help me, negative comments and all." From his place on the sidewalk, he glanced up at the store name before taking a deep breath. "So, you ready?"

"You should be the one answering that question, not me," Phoebe pretended to chide as they stepped into the same jewelry shop that she and Cole had robbed three years ago.

"I have asked myself that question," Kevin answered her, very seriously. "Ready or not, I have never felt more sure of anything in my entire life. I want to marry her, Phoebe—I truly, truly do. I have no doubts."

Phoebe smiled gently at him as they walked up to the store counter. "There never was any doubt, Kev," she told him as they waited for service. "I am just so thrilled for you both. Marriage is just gonna be perfect for you guys."

"That is if she says yes," Kevin said darkly as the store employee showed a teenage girl and her mother bracelets.

"Of _course_ she will," Phoebe asserted, reaching up slightly to pat him lightly on the shoulder. "I know you, I know Ames even better, and I know…" she trailed off, her eyes suddenly distant.

"You know…you know what?" Kevin pressed, afraid that Ames' best friend was suddenly going to tell him some unfortunate news.

"Love. I know…love." Phoebe nodded her head slightly, as if to punctuate her statement, then sighed and leaned forward on the counter.

Kevin furrowed his brow. Who could Phoebe possibly be talking about? Last time he checked, the most Phoebe had that was close to a romantic relationship lately was the guy she had seen twice and slept with once. The Phoebe that he knew insisted that she did not want love, that love was bothersome and not suited for her. But lately, she seemed to have changed in her demeanor—what could have changed her so? _Is she talking about Clay, or…?_ He stopped. Clay. The name of the only serious boyfriend she had triggered another piece of memory. Another 'C' name. C…Cole. _Cole._

Suddenly, everything seemed to make sense. She started acting differently just around the time that she met him. Could it be possible that she was falling in love with this Cole—so quickly, so soon? Kevin tested his theory. "So how's this Cole fellow I've been hearing about?" he said nonchalantly, pretending to shift the topic.

Phoebe sent Kevin a sharp look. Maybe she did not know him in this world, but she had enough to go on from both her diary and her internal instinct to know what he was implying. "I broke up with him."

Kevin opened his mouth. "When did this happen?"

Phoebe sighed. "I told Ames, but I guess you guys haven't talked since last afternoon." She looked around the store. "Are there no other employees here at all?" she muttered to herself, drumming her fingers nervously on the glass. The employee looked awfully familiar to her, and she had the most sinking feeling that he was the man present when Frankie and Lulu decided to steal from the store. Phoebe buried her head in her hands. Why did everything have to so blatantly remind her of Cole?

Kevin shook his head. The fact that she had broke off their relationship just proved his theory to be true. "Why?" he tried. "I mean, it's obvious that you care about him. I mean, Pheebs, is it such a good idea to end something so promising?"

Phoebe groaned. "Now you're on my case too?"

"I'm just looking out for you, Phoebe. I'm sure Ames told you this too."

"Yeah, the whole crew," Phoebe muttered. Ames, she knew, would protest and be astonished that she would break up with such a "hunky slice of flesh", as Ames had so eloquently put it when Phoebe had given her the news. The big shocker was the response of her sisters.

Phoebe had been researching some more information on magic on her computer when Prue rang her. "Phoebe," Prue had demanded without even bothering with a greeting. "I hand you my ex-boyfriend and you hand me back a broken man. Why?"

"Uh…Prue?" Phoebe had said a bit bewilderedly, her mind not exactly comprehending what her sister had told her.

"OK," Prue had relented, "maybe 'broken' is a bit of a strong word. But he's devastated, Phoebe. I can honestly say that I've never seen him this upset over _anything_ at all."

"Wait," Phoebe has answered. "Where is he now again?"

"He's in the sun room and Piper is feeding him," Prue replied.

"Uh, Piper, feeding?"

Prue made an annoyed sound over the phone. "You know, comfort food and all that. Phoebe, you're my sister and I love you, but you have to at least give this guy a reason. I mean, he is our friend and all."

"Look," Phoebe said slowly. "I'm not ready to be in a long-term relationship. Not with him, not with anyone—not ever," she finished gloomily.

Prue made another sound at the other end of the line. Phoebe was mystified—how was _Prue_, of all people, getting so riled up over her breaking up with Cole? It just made no sense. "Phoebe," Prue was saying condescendingly, "you're twenty seven years old. For God's sakes, you can't base the rest of your life on one-night stands. Just in case you didn't know, love encompasses an entire field that is completely separate than casual sex, and infinitely more satisfying."

"Love is shit," Phoebe had snapped back at her sister, clutching the phone in a death-grip. "I know exactly what love is. It only works if you can keep it, and believe me, love is something I'll never be able to keep. And when it doesn't work out, it hurts far more than anything in the world. You don't think I don't know? Things have changed, Prue. Things have changed a lot." Phoebe sighed; she didn't have enough heart to hang up on her sister. "I have to go. Are we still on for tomorrow night?" Phoebe had heard a stunned affirmative from the other end and sighed again. "Bye."

"Hello," sounded the smooth voice of the store employee as he hurriedly went over to where Phoebe and Kevin were. Phoebe took in a full look at the man's face and felt her stomach sink to the ground. It was him. _Thank God Cole and I robbed this place a few months after this_, Phoebe thought as she gave a nervous smile. _Or I would be arrested right about now, probably_. "What would you two be looking for on this fine day?"

Phoebe glanced at Kevin and prodded him. Kevin started and faced the employee. "Hi, we're looking for an engagement ring." Kevin saw the glance the man gave to Phoebe and shook his head vehemently. "No, not her, she's here to help. Best friend and all."

The employee nodded. "So, do you have any ideas of what you have in mind, or should I give a few suggestions?"

Kevin, who had already looked at the selection, hesitantly pointed at a particular ring that Phoebe recognized. "I'm not sure, but what do you think about this? I think it's OK, don't know if Ames would be up for it though."

"Oh no, you don't want this one," Phoebe said quickly even as the man opened his mouth to speak. "Believe me." She added under her breath, "unless you want to curse the marriage before it even begins." She lifted her head and smiled at the man. "Do you have some other diamond engagement rings?"

Half an hour later, Kevin and Phoebe stepped out of the store, Kevin holding a little bag. They stopped just outside of Ames' car on the sidewalk and faced each other. Phoebe looked at Kevin's face. A tumble of emotions shone clearly in his eyes; excitement, exhilaration, and the inevitable fear of rejection. Phoebe smiled softly and brought up a hand to lightly stroke Kevin's cheek. "You have absolutely nothing to worry about," Phoebe told him softly. "She'll say yes in a heartbeat, and you guys will have a beautiful wedding, and get married, and have four kids."

"Yup," Kevin responded, smiling. "We've decided the order, did she tell you that?"

"Boy, girl, girl, boy," Phoebe responded, dropping her hand and grinning. "You guys have your whole lives ahead of you. Your love is beautiful and worth it, Kevin. Don't ever forget that."

"Never," Kevin said solemnly, then suddenly grabbed Phoebe into a great big bear hug. "Thank you so much, Phoebe," Kevin said as he held her tight. "I don't know what I'd do without you. I probably wouldn't even be with her if it wasn't for you because I would've been too scared. But I took the chance and now—now I couldn't be happier," he ended as he released her.

"Don't worry about it," Phoebe answered. "Now go get your woman. I'm staying over at my sisters' tonight, remember? Propose wherever you want—you'll know when the moment is right. OK?"

"Definitely," Kevin replied. He opened the driver seat door. "You coming with me?"

"Nah," Phoebe said, waving her hand. "I think I'll walk it to my sisters' now—they want me right about now, and it's not that far." She leaned in the window. "Good luck," she told him. "But you won't need it. All you need is what you already have." She stepped back from the car, gave him one last encouraging smile, then turned toward the window of Johann's Jewelry as Kevin pulled out of the parking spot. Through the window, she saw and remembered, almost as though from an onlooker's view, the way she and Cole, possessed by the ghosts of lovers, had barged in to the store and stole the ring that Kevin had looked at. The perfect solitaire.

With a final sigh, she turned away from the store window and started to head for her sisters' house, passing a seasonal Halloween shop along the way.

* * *

"Morning, sweet sister," Paige happily greeted Piper from the Manor kitchen of the magical world. Piper rubbed her eyes sleepily and plodded to the counter to pour a cup of coffee.

"I thought you were at Richard's," Piper yawned as she opened a cabinet and took out her favorite mug.

"I was," Paige corrected her. "But he had to leave early, and I thought—hey, might as well hang out with my sisters if can before heading over to the school." Paige smeared a slab of butter on the toasted bagel and bit into it. "So, how are you sis?" Paige asked, mouth full.

"I'm as I ever am," Piper answered, adding cream to her coffee. She glanced over to Paige, who had practically polished off the first half of her bagel already. "Hungry, aren't you?"

"And this is my second too," Paige replied, grinning. "Sex and orbing calls for _lots_ of food."

"Yup," Piper said shortly, gripping her cup and taking a bagel off the pile Paige had assembled on a separate plate. Paige realized what she had said and started to apologize before Piper stopped her. "Don't," Piper said firmly. "You don't have to. It's OK. _I'm_ OK." They lapsed into silence, contemplatively chewing on their breakfast.

"So, do you know how Phoebe's holding up? I didn't get a chance to talk to her this morning," Paige began, taking various sips between her cup of coffee and her cup of orange juice.

Piper stopped eating. "Really? She wasn't in bed this morning when I checked up on her."

They looked at each other, then shrugged. "Maybe she went to the office early," Paige tried. "She always runs to the office whenever something's up in her life," she added wisely.

"Yeah, but this was her _boss_," Piper said slowly. "She's not running to the office any faster than she has to face the reactions of her colleagues. I mean, how much to bet that they're gossiping about her and Jason's break up right now?" She took a drought of coffee and continued. "And another thing—when I went to her bedroom, her covers weren't pulled back. What I mean is," Piper clarified when Paige gave her a perplexed look, "it's almost like she disappeared out of her bed. You could still see the shape that her body took under the covers."

Paige opened her mouth, but Piper beat her to it. "CHRIS!" she yelled.

A shower of blue-white lights appeared. "What?" Chris said irritably when he saw the two sisters sitting at the kitchen island. He gave Piper a look that children gave to their parents when they interrupted something important.

"Can you check your radar for Phoebe," Piper asked him. "We're afraid that something may have happened to her."

Chris raised his eyebrows, then up stood and concentrated. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes, clearly puzzled. "She's not in any trouble," he said, furrowing his brows. "She's—here."

Paige looked at Piper, then back at Piper's son. "What do you mean, here?"

"I feel her presence, right in the living room, but it's like she's here and _not_ here at the same time," Chris answered, squinting his eyes.

Piper pounded her hand on the table. "Do _not_ tell me she's been stuck on another plane," she muttered. "Or even worse, an alternate universe." She exchanged a dark look with Paige.

"No, no," Chris waved his hand and gripped his head. "No, this is different. It's like another plane…and another universe. At the same time."

Paige's eyes lit up in recognition and she pointed at Chris. "Wait a second. I think I know what you're talking about." She got up from her seat and hurried off to the staircase. A minute later, she appeared, not only with the Book of Shadows but with a teacher's textbook as well. She planted both the Book of Shadows and her teacher's materials on the counter. She opened her textbook first and flipped to a dog-earred page. "Parallel world," she announced triumphantly.

"Parallel world?" Piper and Chris echoed at the same time.

"Exactly," Paige said smugly. "I know because I was going to put it on the final for the kids for extra credit. Anyways—a parallel world is a like a cross between a plane and an alternate universe. Usually, there's only one factor that separates the parallel world and the magical world—our world, the 'Main' world. Other than that, the theoretical space between our world and a parallel world is very small. A parallel world can't be created but can be accessed—but it's really, really, hard." Paige frowned. "You need a lot of power just to transfer someone _to_ a parallel world, it can't even be done accidentally."

"OK, then, so you're telling us that Phoebe was physically ripped out of our world and planted into a parallel one?" Piper said, her voice a little higher pitched than usual. "Great. Just great."

"Well, at least we know what's going on," Paige offered.

"True," Piper answered. Silence ensued. "Now what do we do?"


	20. All Halliwell's Eve

**A/N:** This chapter may be a little shorter than what you're used to for this story, but no worries—I'm already working on the next chapter and it looks like its gonna be a _long_ one. Please review afterwards, and if you want to contact me feel free to do so at Intervention 

**Love's Intervention  
****_Chapter Twenty: All Halliwell's Eve_**

In the parallel world, Phoebe stood in the kitchen of the Halliwell Manor, clutching a sharp knife in her right hand. She stared down at the basin of water in front of her, deep in contemplation.

Prue walked into the kitchen, her black hair tied in a loose bun so that wisps of hair fell on her face. "Hey Phoebe," Prue greeted her brightly as she headed for the refrigerator. She pulled out a carton of orange juice and set it on the kitchen counter. "You know what Piper told me after you fell asleep?"

"What?" Phoebe asked, still staring at the basin. She had spent the past night at the Manor, both to give Kevin a free rein to propose and to spend time with her sisters.

"She wants to take cooking lessons." Prue took a glass and poured herself a cup.

"Cooking lessons? For what? She knows how to cook _everything_."

"Not according to her she doesn't. She wants to learn how to cook Eastern cuisine, Asian food. It's the only thing she said she didn't know." Prue turned around and brought the glass to her lips, then saw the curious situation that Phoebe was in. "Phoebe, what're you doing?"

Phoebe turned to her oldest sister and gave a grin. "It's a magic trick."

Prue laughed. "Oh, right, its Halloween today, isn't it?" Prue set down her glass and went over to Phoebe. "How does this one work?"

Phoebe indicated to the bowl of apples that were sitting next to the basin of water. "It's simple. You blow on an apple peel while thinking thoughts of love, throw the peel into the water, and the peel will show you the first initial of your true love."

"Really? That's an impressive thing for the apple off of the corner market to know."

"Well, after all, apples _are_ the fruit of knowledge," Phoebe replied. She took an apple with her left hand and held it out to her sister. "Wanna try?"

Prue laughed again and waved it away. "No, it's OK. I think I'd rather not."

Phoebe tossed the apple in the air and caught it. "What, don't believe in magic?" Phoebe tutted. "You should, you know. Especially on Halloween, when magic's supposed to be the strongest."

"Even if it can be proven to be true, I wouldn't do it," Prue answered. She acknowledged the surprise on Phoebe's face with a smile. "Personally, I think that there are some things that are better left up to life. I mean, if you know, it'll be constantly over your head, wouldn't it? If the peel turned out to be—say, an R—you'll be searching for a guy whose name starts out with an R. And say you meet a guy named Bobby, and you completely dismiss him, but it turns out that his name is actually Robert, and suddenly you're screwed out of your true love, aren't you?"

Phoebe let out a chuckle, but it was more out of astonishment than anything. "Wow, Prue—I never knew you felt like that."

Prue shrugged, a little uncomfortably. "I didn't really use to think like that. In fact, I didn't use to think about stuff like that at all, but a few—things changed my mind."

Phoebe stared at Prue so intensely that the older Halliwell began to feel even more uncomfortable. It was impossible that Phoebe knew about the near car accident—to the best of her knowledge, Piper never told her, yet, it felt like Phoebe did know. "What things?" Phoebe asked, so softly that Prue had to lean in a bit to hear.

Prue sighed and stood upright again. She might as well tell her, since she deserved to know, but to tell Phoebe, who seemed to really understand; that scared her a little bit. "I, uh, nearly got into a car accident. Three months ago." She saw Phoebe's eyes widen and gave another little shrug. "It was close…"

"Were you hurt?" Phoebe said in hushed voice, her tone frightened.

"I tore my clothes, but other than that, no not really," Prue answered, looking away. "But it did shake me up a lot. You can say that my outlook on life has been somewhat altered since then." Prue looked back at her sister. "So, yeah, when you told me the day before that things have changed—they did."

Phoebe began to stammer but Prue held up her hand. "Wait. I'm not done yet." Prue took a deep breath. "I don't know what has happened in your life these past three or so years, so I maybe the advice I'm going to give to you may be a little off, but…I think that you should give Cole—not to mention yourself—a chance. You seem to know that love hurts, that it especially hurts when it's ripped away from you." A shadow passed over Prue's face, but she shook it away and grasped Phoebe's left hand in both of hers. "But because it can be taken at any time, you have to grab it. You need to. It's there, Pheebs, everyone can see it, what you and Cole have. I mean, I don't know what the future holds for you two—I'm no fortune-teller—but how can you afford not to pursue it?"

Phoebe was looking at Prue, but the older Halliwell got the expression that Phoebe was thinking about something else. "Once you let love in, it'll never leave," Phoebe whispered, her left hand clutching her apple tightly.

Prue nodded, a little surprised but pleased. "That's wise, Phoebe." She let go of Phoebe's hand. "I know it sounds cliché, but you have to live your every day like it's your last. I mean, you never know." Prue laughed. "I can't believe that I, the oldest and the most responsible, am telling you, the youngest and the most spontaneous of us all, to take a few risks."

"Lover's leap," Phoebe commented, a wry smile on her face.

Prue gave her a puzzled look. "What?"

Phoebe laughed. "No, nothing—just thinking of this guy I used to know. Knew a lot about love, that man."

"A natural Cupid, huh?" Prue commented as she checked her watch. "Ugh, I'm gonna head for work, have a photo shoot today. Think about what I've said, OK baby sister?" Prue grinned and gave Phoebe a swift peck on the cheek before she headed out.

Phoebe turned back to her basin, her hand still gripping the apple. Slowly, ever so slowly, she raised her right hand and cut a peel of the apple, then put the apple down. She stared at the peel, closed her eyes, then blew. With her eyes still closed, she released the peel.

But even before she opened her eyes, she knew what the peel would say. She knew what was true; she knew it that Halloween so long ago, when she had tried the same thing in colonial Virginia. She knew it then, she knew it after the second vanquishing of the Source, she had known it this entire week.

Phoebe remembered what she had written in her advice column a few days after she realized her love for Jason. "Signs are only what you take them to be." She was writing in response to a woman who thought that her boyfriend of three weeks wanted to propose to her, but was thinking of the C shaped apple peel she had received when she was sent back in time to save Melinda Warren. _A hoax_, she had thought as she had typed enthusiastically at her computer. Jason Dean—not a single C in his entire name, yet she loved him, didn't she? And why _wouldn't_ the apple peel be in a shape of a C? It was the shape that _all_ apple peels naturally took.

She opened her eyes. C.

And suddenly, she knew. It was a C, simply because it just was. And it was a fact that neither magic nor the absence of magic could ever change. It could say anything else in the world, it could spell out the full name of another man, but it still didn't change what she felt. The man she was in love with. Not Clay. Not Colin. Not Charles. Not Robert, Bobby, Miles, or Jason.

Cole. Just Cole. Always Cole. Forever Cole.

Phoebe put down the knife, grabbed her purse, and walked out of the Manor.

As Phoebe closed the door of the house behind her, Piper crept into the kitchen, feeling as if she had invaded Phoebe's privacy, though she had no idea how. She had seen Phoebe perform some sort of ceremony or rite. Intrigued, Piper stepped up to the basin and took a fresh apple. Feeling a bit silly, she cut a rough peel, then put down the apple and held the peel between her fingers. What had Phoebe done again? Oh yes…Piper closed her eyes and blew on the peel, wondering why Phoebe had done this. _Oh, Phoebe_, Piper thought suddenly, still blowing on the peel. _I hope you and Cole turn out OK. You two seem to really have something._

With that thought, Piper, who felt as though she had blown just about as long as Phoebe did, opened her eyes and stopped. Feeling a bit apprehensive, she dropped the peel into the water and watched. Nothing really seemed to happen—the peel stiffened somewhat and began to bend into a right angle, one leg longer than the other. Was this what Phoebe was looking for? Piper thought, confused. She looked at Phoebe's peel. It was curved, not bent like hers. Piper stared at the two apple peels for a second, then shrugged. She took the apple that she had partially peeled, bit into it, and left the kitchen, leaving the L-shaped apple peel to float alongside its companion.

* * *

The Elders looked amongst themselves, looked at Cupid, looked at the two visitors that had just explained the whole situation to them, looked back at Cupid, and looked back amongst themselves. The visitors had given the Elders and Cupid much information, but one detail was foremost in everyone's minds. Eaton was the first to speak.

"He's alive?"

His words set off a chain reaction; soon everyone was murmuring those two words in varying degrees of shock and awe. "He's alive?" "He's _alive_!" "_He's ALIVE!"_

"He's alive."

The Elders and Cupid turned to the visitor that had spoken. The Angel of Death sardonically smiled back, one eyebrow amusedly cocked and a twinkle in his eye that both boggled and terrified those in the Elder's Headquarters.


	21. White Magic

**Love's Intervention  
****_Chapter Twenty One: White Magic_**

White.

That was all he saw, all that he had seen since that fateful day of his second vanquishing. Or was it his third vanquishing? That is, if the vanquish of Belthazor was to be considered to be one of his vanquishes. Sure, all of him did not die, but Belthazor was inevitably a part of him. Half of him, actually. Two and a half vanquishings then?

Who was he? He was Cole Turner. Ex-demon Belthazor, former Source of All Evil, former possessor of invincible demonic powers, ex-husband of Phoebe Halliwell. He was many things, but yet the thing that mattered to him most was that last item on the list. Ex-husband of Phoebe Halliwell. Even now, trapped in an expanse of white, he loved her, even after knowing that she was the one who had vanquished him. Twice.

Though that last vanquishing…his last vanquishing, instead of sending him on a one-way trip to eternal damnation, as he expected, he was sent here, to this—place. Cole didn't even know what it was. He was pretty sure it wasn't purgatory, unless he was to repent of his sins by being left in a neutral, not exactly uncomfortable world with only his thoughts. Still, hell could hardly be like this, be described as boring. The closest he could come up with was limbo, yet that theory just didn't seem right to him.

Cole thought back to the events that brought him to this world of white. As always, he cringed at the memory of the disastrous alternate universe that he had conjured up with the help of the Avatars, remembered how alternate Phoebe had thrown the potion, the pain—the Angel of Death.

He had seen the Angel of Death once before, during his first vanquishing. As he had exploded in the magical cage that Phoebe had completed, and as he had felt the Source being ripped from his soul, the Angel of Death had appeared before him even as Cole had writhed in pain. It was a strange meeting. The Angel of Death had hovered in front of him, cocking his head and grasping his chin while observing Cole with a scrutinizing look. Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he waved his hand and had disappeared just as Cole landed in the Wasteland.

Cole had not thought much about his encounter with the angel afterwards; his mind was mostly on other things, from getting out of the Wasteland to getting Phoebe back. The memory, however, came back when Cole saw him again at his second vanquishing.

As the potion had made contact with his body, he had known the truth—that this time, his descent would be permanent. Even as the sight of Phoebe had faded from his eyes, he had felt the pull, only this time it was accompanied by a sense of inevitability. And yet, while he was falling, he had sensed something different, but not something entirely new. Before he could put his finger on what it was, however, he felt the presence grab him firmly by the arm and yank him sideways.

And with a thud, he had landed in the world of white, with the Angel of Death standing in front of him. The Angel had made an impatient sound when Cole looked around wildly and slapped his arms and legs to find them solid.

"Oh, please," the Angel had uttered in his bored British accent. "Don't look so surprised. Or at least, don't waste my time with the questions that you're bound to ask." The Angel gave Cole a look that made him collect himself and sit up. "You're not dead."

Cole grabbed his own hands together and felt them; his knuckles, the wound where Paige sliced off a piece of his flesh. "Am I alive?" he had managed out.

The Angel had smiled, and though there was no emotion behind his lips, there was a slightly amused spark in his eyes. "You're a smart man. You can figure it out." The Angel's smile widened. "After all, not many can say that they've escaped my clutches not only once, but twice."

Cole stirred at this, and the Angel shot him an even look. "I highly encourage you not to despair in this turn of your luck. Suffice to say that this was meant to happen—just like other turns of luck in your life."

"But—" Cole had started, the anguish clear in every crevice of his body.

"Some things are just not meant to be," the Angel said clearly. The Angel of Death watched carefully as Cole looked away, his eyes desperate and far away. "But then again," the Angel had added, almost as an afterthought, "some things are."

This caused Cole to look back at him. The Angel smiled neutrally, as if he had not notice the torrent of emotions the man was expressing in front of him. The Angel turned away, glancing at the white surroundings of Cole, which contrasted so sharply with his and Cole's black garments. "Make yourself at home, Cole," the Angel had said, then vanished from sight.

And so the Angel of Death left Cole Turner alone, despondent and utterly bewildered, leaving him only with the knowledge that Cole had failed at all the options that he had tried.

And as Cole had slowly gotten up on his feet, had gingerly touched the wound on his hand, he had screamed. His scream, as wretched and heart-wrenching as any banshee's, lasted until his ears became numb from the sound and until he collapsed on his knees, exhausted. Still, that did not stop the images that flashed before his closed eyes—Phoebe panting as she squirmed under another's man's touch in the alternate world; Julie's breath in his ear as she offered to be his Queen and carry his child; Phoebe, laughing, as she fed him a pastry in a small café in France; the Avatar's somber promises of a world beyond good and evil; the look on Phoebe's face as she ran away from him the day she found out that he was the Source.

He had tried everything, _everything_, to get her back, to right the wrong, to bring it back to the way it used to be. To the times when he would wake up to find her small, warm body pressed up against his, her face the picture of peace and serenity, to times when her eyes were full of love and when her touches were gentle. All he ever wanted was to turn back the clock and start things afresh, anew, but by the time he had the ability to, he had messed that up too.

Cole sighed and looked at his hands. He had spent most of his time here thinking about Phoebe—how long had he been in this place, anyways? Too long, too much time to think, to know that he could never have her again; in fact, the longer he was there, the more certain he was that this wasn't right. He didn't know if it was just his incredible stubbornness at not letting Phoebe go, or if there was something more to it. After all, Death wouldn't have left him here, literally in his own little world, if he didn't have a purpose, would he?

Cole sighed again and got up from his seat on the white leather couch. At least in this world, he had one more thing to do other than think about Phoebe. Cole worked on honing his new powers. In this white world, Cole was able not to absorb powers, as he did in the Wasteland, but to create and nurture them.

He had discovered the ability of this world quite accidentally, closer to the beginning of his stay right in the middle of his initial madman rant and fury of not being able to seek the peace he craved. During his rage, which was as expected mainly over Phoebe, he had gone from angrily denouncing her and hating what she had done to him to suddenly needing her touch, needing to see her, to love her. And right when he felt as though his heart would burst from emotion, he had felt something cold and hard in his clutched fist.

Slowly he had opened his fist to see a small little picture frame. It didn't take Cole any time at all to recognize the frame, the contours of the edges, even though the one he knew what several times larger. It was the picture frame that had the picture of Phoebe in her light blue knit hat looking lovingly up at him. However, this frame was hardly larger than a thimble, was completely white, and held no picture inside.

Still, Cole had realized what he had just done and the potential that laid in his action. He knew he was completely powerless coming into the white world, as the powers he gathered from the Wasteland were void in the alternate universe he created, and Belthazor had, once again, been peeled away from him as he was vanquished. He began testing his abilities and created inanimate objects; a small papier-mâché chair, also white, was his first major try. This particular power had advanced with his efforts and with his unlimited amount of time, so that now he had a couch set, a fluffy bed with soft linen, a nightstand, a wardrobe with clothes inside, and a coffee table. He had no need for anything else; he didn't need to eat and he seemed to keep forever clean and clean-shaven—in fact, he didn't need all of this, but he wanted it. Besides, even if he did want to shower, he still didn't quite get the creation of an endless flow of water yet. All of his furniture was white, even the clothes that he had desperately tried to make black, except for his glass coffee table, which looked suspiciously like the one he had at his penthouse.

With this power of generation, Cole had also built up three more powers; shimmering, energy balls, and morphing. _A nice mix of my Belthazor powers with my Wasteland ones_, Cole had thought to himself wryly more than once. Still, he knew that these powers were different. He wasn't born with them, he certainly didn't take them; they were all his, Cole Turner's, and with these powers, he almost felt whole again. Almost. Not quite. But good enough.

He wandered over to his nightstand and picked up the thimble-sized photo frame, which was standing next to the same but larger photo frame. Try as he might, he couldn't create a replica of the picture that he had left in the penthouse. He knew that it would be a big thing to create, especially since it contained color, but it still discouraged him. Cole rolled the small frame between his two fingers, his mind going back to the strange dreams he was having lately.

Cole knew that he probably didn't have to sleep either, but the bed had soothed him somewhat, and was comfortable besides. He never had many good sleeps; most of the time he laid on the bed under the warm covers in his white pajama pants and stared at the white sky. Still, he did sleep, though fitfully. Lately, however, he had been having the strangest dreams, of him and Phoebe together. They were very creative dreams, too, and very vivid as well, some parts deliciously more than others. Dreams of him and a blonde-streaked Phoebe, sharing a sunset, dancing slowly in the private booth of P3, having a tickle fest under the covers. Cole gave a lopsided smile. Too bad they would just be dreams, dreams that had no chance of ever coming true ever again.

With that thought, Cole slid off his shirt, slid on his pajama pants, and got into bed, hoping to dream of Phoebe once again.

* * *

Piper paced furiously in the attic as Chris warily watched her. Paige had orbed to Magic School a few minutes ago to see if she could find anything after the two sisters had looked through all the magical materials they had. 

Paige's teacher manual had only gone as far to explain what a parallel world was, but it said nothing about bringing a person back from the world. They had searched the Book of Shadows, but it had produced nothing but a description vaguer than the one that the textbook provided—apparently, none of their ancestors had experienced anything like it. They had also looked through the book for any demon that may have had the power to send Phoebe to the alternate world, but in that department they had come across no descriptions of the sort. They had tried to scry for Phoebe, but except for feeling a weak pull toward the Manor's spot on the map, nothing else had helped.

Piper stopped pacing and twirled around to face Chris, who was manning a spot on the couch. "You," she said. "Future boy."

"Piper, you know I can't tell you anything."

"Like hell you can't," Piper hissed. "Look, we already know Wyatt turns evil in your future, so now you can tell me; do I lose another sister?"

"That's not the way to look at it, Piper," Chris replied exasperatedly. "You're the Charmed Ones. You'll always pull through, you always have. And yes, I know about Prue," he continued when Piper opened her mouth to retort. "But you can't have that attitude if you expect to find her."

"Do I lose a sister like this or not?" Piper asked him again, unmoved by his pep talk.

Chris sighed as he tried to formulate a non-committal answer to the question. Phoebe did not die in the future he belonged to, so it must have meant that she survived this adventure of Charmed life. Still, he did not remember this particular story; and as a child, he would've thought he would have remembered it, since stories involving other worlds and universes always appealed to him. Maybe Piper never told him this one?—but it was impossible. _No_, Chris decided, _it must be the arrival of me that spurned this change of events._

Chris felt a pang in his heart as he watched Piper continue her pace around the attic. He hated to see his mother like this, but he couldn't tell her anymore; Phoebe had figured out his big bad secret, after all—he couldn't afford to let any other information leak out, not until it was absolutely necessary. Besides, Paige was still at Magic School with a ton of resources at hand, surely she would find something…

Even as he thought this, a shower of blue-and-white orbs appeared in front of him to form Paige's slim figure. "Useless!" the youngest Halliwell exclaimed in frustration. "I mean, you would _think­­­­_—but no, there isn't. At least, not anything I could find. I tried to find Gideon to help us, but he wasn't there."

"Maybe we should call upon another Elder for help," Chris said nonchalantly, casting a side glance at Piper. According to his calculations, his time of conception was in about two weeks, and he needed his parents to be together if he wanted to get born. Piper, on the other hand, looked shocked.

"Are you kidding me? Besides, I thought you didn't like Leo," Piper replied, as if that settled it.

"We have had our differences," Chris admitted, "but our relationship is getting better. Besides, Phoebe is out there, isn't she, perhaps in danger?"

Piper stared at him for a second then looked away, resigned. "Go get him," she said, beginning to turn away.

"Don't bother," a new voice sounded from directly behind them. The girls and Chris spun around to face the intruder, Piper's hands already ready to blow some demon guts when she recognized the person, causing her to jump in surprise and accidentally blow up a throw pillow behind him. The visitor flinched and let out a yelp.

"Cupid?" Piper sounded incredulously. "What's going on?"

"Cupid?" echoed Paige, glaring suspiciously at the newcomer. "Where are your bows and arrows?"

Cupid rubbed his face with his hands. "Like sister, like sister," he sighed. He turned to Piper for assistance only to find the oldest Halliwell giving him an apprehensive look as well.

"Where's your ring?" she asked warily, bringing her hands up in front of her again. She didn't know if this was some demon's trick, but she was better safe than sorry.

Cupid sighed again and turned to Paige as if to answer her question first. "Michael the boy next door, Andrew, Mike the pothead, Glenn, Pierre, Shaun, Dave, Richard," he recited. "And of course, Ethan from sophomore year in college."

Piper raised her eyebrows as Paige slightly flushed at the mention of the last name. She relaxed her fingers, but still kept her hands in front of her as a warning. Cupid turned to her. "And I don't have a ring because I've been promoted."

Piper's eyebrows inched even further up her forehead. "Promoted? How so?"

"To the very highest position available in my field. I am now Head Cupid. Leader of the Cupids. Super-Cupid." He rubbed his slightly bleary eyes. "I don't need a ring to channel any of my powers now; they are imbedded within me unless I retire or they get taken away because I've misused them."

"Wow," Paige said interested. "You really are Cupid?"

He nodded. "One of many. We work all around the world—"

"Yeah, we've heard this before," Piper said tensely as she remembered that her sister was missing. "Cupid, if you need help, we'll be happy to, except that—"

"Actually," Cupid said with a little nervous laugh. "I do need your help, but uh, it kind of involves Phoebe. You see, I know what happened to her. Because I kind of put her there. Not only her, but Leo. And a couple of demons as well into a non-magical world."

"_What?_!" shrieked Piper. Paige looked confused and passively shocked, but reacted when she processed all the information.

"But doesn't that mean that they all don't have powers as well?" she asked slowly.

"You would know best, Paige," Cupid nodded. "Parallel worlds exist alongside the Main world and have exactly one characteristic different than the Main world, but other than that they are the same as alternate universes. Look," he continued explaining as he saw Piper's expression. "In order to make his alternate universe, Cole went back in time and changed one event, killed Paige when she should have lived. That event, from that point in time, changed the course of history, no? In parallel worlds, things are different. That one difference between the Main world and parallel world—the presence of magic—cannot be changed by simply moving back in time. It's just how the two worlds were created; one with magic, one without. That enables parallel worlds exist right alongside the Main world, as two separate entities. Do you see?"

"Yeah, I see that both Phoebe and Leo are screwed over," Piper muttered, shooting Cupid a dark look. "You bring nothing but trouble, Cupid."

Cupid gave Piper a sympathetic look and was about to speak when Paige, oblivious to the insults that Piper had paid to their visitor, spoke. "I understand the differences," she said. "But…you said you put them there…why? Why those two? I mean, you're supposed to promote love and all that, right? And love's not evil. So why demons as well? I mean, you're not out to _kill_ Phoebe and Leo, are you?"

"No!" Cupid replied, horrified. "Never! The demons weren't supposed to be there—and neither was Leo! I just—I'm new to this position, see, and I'm kind of unfamiliar with all my new, more powerful powers. I don't know what I did wrong, but the Elders—" he made a face at the word "—think that Leo and the demons were in the midst of transporting—you know, orbing, shimmering, all that—right when I transferred Phoebe into the parallel world."

"Okay, then, so _why_ did you put Phoebe into the parallel world, then?" Paige further inquired, an eyebrow raised. "Some sort of Cupid business thing gone awry?"

Cupid reminded himself to give the Cupid that had taken over his position a bonus for pairing Paige and Richard together. _At least one Halliwell sister still believes in love_, Cupid thought gloomily as Piper crossed her arms across her chest and stared at him, demanding answers. Paige, the only remaining Halliwell that had not been especially burned by romance, was also looking curious and concerned, but not spiteful.

Still, he knew that this goodwill on Paige's part may just be thrown out the window when they hear why he put her in the parallel world. She was not only curious as to know what life would be like for her in a place without magic—she had wondered about her and Cole. And if they realized that _that_ was the reason why he had inadvertently created this mess, well—

He had heard that Piper's offensive power was especially painful.

* * *

**A/N**: For those who follow Twice Cursed - I know I haven't updated in a while, no worries,I'm currently working on it. A combination of writer's block and life's obstacles have been getting in the way. I hope that my stories are still interesting you, and I hope that you all can still spend a small amount of time to reviews; as I've said before, they are all very important to me and I appreciate them. Until next time 


	22. Ticket

**A/N:** As always, thank you very much for all your considerate reviews. The end of this story is somewhere on the horizon; we still have a couple of chapters to go, but I'm just sending out this message out for those who were wondering. Please review afterwards (you may not get the chance to as my story winds to a close!).

**Love's Intervention  
****_Chapter Twenty Two: Ticket_**

The wind whistled as it blew in gusts in the cold winter-like atmosphere. Phoebe shivered as the wind penetrated her jacket. Halloween had never been this cold before, she thought to herself as she clutched her arms tightly around herself. She kept her head bent and her eyes on the ground—she was searching for something, and she was looking for it solely by intuition.

Finally, she found it. The rectangle marker in the grassy field of graves. PAIGE MATTHEWS 1976-1994. BELOVED DAUGHTER AND FRIEND.

"They forgot something, Paige," Phoebe murmured. "Beloved sister. You're all of this and more."

Phoebe took a deep breath before continuing. "Paige—of all of us, you had the strangest relationship with Cole. Piper and Cole was like the best friend and the boyfriend—the best friend giving advice, wanted or not, that type of thing. For Leo, Cole was the former demon that he at first had only accepted because he had to but later became almost buddies with. And me—well, we all knew…" Phoebe trailed off. "But for you; at some level, you guys understood each other, as outsiders of the family. You were the first to notice when Cole became the Source, and you were also the first to realize that I still loved Cole, back when I became a mermaid. You were the arbitrator, but without the bias—you were, really, the most objective of all of us, because you hadn't become attached to Cole but was connected to him at the same time. Which is why," Phoebe said, not even noticing the cold anymore, "I think you know why I have to do this."

Phoebe knelt down and gently touched the tombstone. "I know that sometimes you, even now in this point in our relationship, feel left out, even as you are trying to make a life of your own for yourself. Just remember that I love you, and that I would never put your safety or anyone else's safety above my desires. It's not going to happen again, and it won't." Phoebe closed her eyes for a second before standing up again and squaring her shoulders.

She hurried away.

* * *

Phoebe held on to her bad strap tightly as she stood nervously in the elevator, staring at the floor ticker. Fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen…she exhaled noisily and took a step backwards, grasping the bar behind her for support.

She had tried his office first. People stared openly at her as she had walked self-consciously up to Julie, who had answered Phoebe's inquires with downright contempt. Julie had told her that he was working at his apartment and was given explicit instructions to not let anyone disturb him. When Phoebe had arrived at the apartment building, the doorman had given her similar remarks, but she had somehow wheedled her way into getting in. It helped that in the real world, the big but loving man was rather affectionate of her in a friendly sort of way. She even convinced him not to inform Cole of her presence.

Thirty three thirty four thirty five thirty six…the elevator slowed. Thirty eight thirty nine forty, forty one. _Ding_. The elevator doors slid open.

As she did on her second date with Cole just a few days before, Phoebe stared from her place in the elevator at the man who was sitting with his back toward her, a pile of papers in front of him. "Phil, I told you, I'm—" he spun around and caught his breath when he saw someone entirely different from his office friend.

"Hi," Phoebe said tentatively as she stepped out of the elevator and into the apartment.

"Hi," Cole responded, suddenly curt, as he stood. "Phoebe, what are you doing here?"

"I thought we could talk," she replied as she almost shyly crossed the threshold.

"Is there anything to talk about?" Cole responded, more antagonistically than she had expected. "I understand what you did when you broke up with me the day before, you don't have to explain it to me." He walked a few steps away from her and halfway turned his back on her.

"Cole, I—" she stopped, unsure of what to say. Why was he being so cold toward her? "We—look, if you don't want to talk, can you at least listen?" She took his lack of response as an affirmative, but was still unnerved by his aloofness. "I know I've probably—confused you with a lot of things over these past few days. I've been really confused myself. And I know it seems as though I'm not telling you everything, but—"

"Tell me everything? That's funny, Phoebe," Cole drawled sarcastically as he turned around to face her. "How about the fact that you have someone else?" He ignored her perplexed expression. "I should've been suspicious when I heard you saying his name when you were asleep. I saw you and _Leo_ outside of Johann's Jewelry, OK? So don't go giving me this bullshit about you being confused."

"Leo? But that was Kevin," Phoebe replied, her eyes widening as she understood his implications. "No, Cole, Kevin is Ames' boyfriend. You know, Ames, the girl that you met on our first date? I was helping him pick out an engagement ring so that he could propose to her. And I already told you, Leo's in love with my sist—with someone I consider my sister." Phoebe felt her anger rise even as she again caught herself from making a mistake.

"Yeah, OK, if you say so," Cole muttered, somewhat mollified by her response but still unyielding.

"No, Cole—" Phoebe stopped again and sighed. This wasn't going the way she wanted it to go at all. "It's just that I've just gotten out of a serious relationship, and before that I was in an even _more_ serious relationship, one with a man that I deeply, deeply loved. But he also hurt me, hurt me beyond comprehension, so much so that I began to doubt if I could ever love again. And I thought my last relationship would be the ticket, except it wasn't. Not at all." She was staring at him with such intensity that Cole couldn't help but look back.

"So what am I?" Cole said, for some reason feeling resentment toward the petite figure standing in front of him. "Try number three? 'Maybe this one's the ticket, too!'" he mocked, then immediately wished he hadn't when Phoebe froze up and shakily turned away. "No, wait, Phoebe, I didn't mean it." He took several steps toward her. "I'm sorry. Please, continue."

Phoebe smiled weakly. "Technically," she said, "this is the fourth try. But—"

"But what?" Cole interrupted, suddenly nervous.

Phoebe smiled a bit wider. "But nothing," she said. She closed the distance between them and touched his cheek. He covered her hand with his. "Cole, I love you."

He gulped. "Are you sure?" he replied. He saw her hurt expression. "I don't think I would be able to stand it if you aren't."

"You can't tell me what to feel," Phoebe teased lightly, mimicking the words he had said before she had fled his office two days ago. She withdrew her hand, causing Cole to feel a sharp pang in his heart. His spirits were lifted, however, when she immediately took both of his hands in hers.

"I know I've hurt you," she said seriously. "I know that now. And I've been hurt by—well, I've been hurt a lot too. But—" she continued, even though she knew that this Cole didn't know what she was talking about "—I want us to try. It's just up to you now whether you want to or not."

Cole stared into Phoebe big brown eyes and sighed. "You're kidding, right?" he replied as he smiled and pulled her toward him into a kiss neither of them could or wanted to stop.

* * *

Nancy Thatcher slowly counted out the pills from various containers. She counted out two large blue pills, four small powdery pink pills, and one red-and-yellow pill. She poured these pills into a small cup, filled a large glass with water, and set both items on a tray.

"Dr. Wyatt?" Nancy called out. "It's time for your medicine."

Nancy preferred calling him by the name of his profession. It was the name he was most familiar with, having been a doctor for nearly half a century, and it was the name he was most likely to respond to as well.

She had heard stories from one or two of her friends who used to be patients of Dr. Wyatt. A wonderful, honest doctor, they had told her enthusiastically—and Nancy, skeptic she was even as a nurse herself, did not take their word for it until she became the caretaker of this World War II veteran herself. It was a pity, Nancy thought to herself sometimes. He was such a caring man, even in his bursts of deliriousness, and yet he never had much of a family to call his own. He had told her about an old love of his—Lillian, was that the name?—a woman that he had returned to after his return from the war, only to have them go their separate ways a few years later. From then on, Nancy assumed, he lived a quiet bachelor life, a man shy with women and with no living relatives.

Nancy walked through the hall of the house. "Dr. Wyatt?" she called. She went to the living room, only to find it abandoned. She frowned but nevertheless headed for the ground floor bedroom. "Dr. Wyatt?" she called again. "It's Nancy. Dr.—" she gasped as she walked into the room to see him sprawled out on the floor next to the bed.

She flew into the CPR mode, hurryingly setting down the tray even as she checked his surroundings. Nothing was sticking out at an odd angle, ruling out the possibility of him tripping and falling. Nancy ran to him, crouched down, and patted him urgently on the shoulders. Interestingly enough, he was flat on his back, almost as if he had laid himself down. "Dr. Wyatt? Dr. Wyatt? Can you hear me? Dr.—Leo? Leo?" she yelled out in an increasingly louder voice.

She checked his pulse and found nothing. She hurried to call 911 and took out the defilabrator, but even as she talked to the operator over the line, her voice had a certain flat quality to it. She knew he was dead.

In the parallel world, Cole sleepily opened his eyes and glanced over at his nightstand. 5:49. God, it was awfully early, wasn't it? He grunted and was about to close his eyes again when his brain registered the two little letters next to the time. PM. It was 5:49 PM.

5:49 PM? What was he doing in bed at such an hour?

He looked over at the crumpled, empty space next to him.

_Phoebe._

Cole scrambled out of bed, his mind only blankly registering to put some clothes before he ran out of his bedroom and into the living room, frantic. She left him, didn't she? He _knew_ it was too good to be true—that she'd go back to him. He'd been such a fool to believe that she felt the same way that he did.

His gaze fell on the balcony and felt a huge surge of relief pass through his body. She was still there, staring out at the city. Cole smiled as he saw that she was wearing his dark blue button-down shirt, a pair of his boxers peeking out from right underneath the edges of the shirt. He simply stood there, admiring her, then silently walked up to her to put his arms securely around her waist.

Phoebe jumped slightly at his touch, but immediately melted into his strong chest as she leaned against him. "Good evening," she murmured.

"Good evening," Cole whispered back. "Why are you here and not in that warm comfortable bed with me?" he asked, nuzzling her ear.

"Wanted some fresh air," she replied as she put her hands over his and gazed out at the rapidly darkening sky. "Just wanted to think for a bit, you know?"

"This is a good thinking place," Cole admitted. "I stand out here when I have some particularly hard problems with my cases. My balcony is very good for decision-making." He smiled softly as Phoebe murmured an assent. He placed a kiss on the top of her head, holding her ever so closer, just relishing the feel of her body pressed up against his. "You complete me, you know that?" he said, stroking her stomach.

"No I don't," Phoebe replied, almost managing to sound casual if she had not tensed up her body. "I love you," she continued sadly, dropping her pretenses, "but I can't give you all that you need. That was our—that's a pitfall that we have to avoid. We have to be careful, you know, if we want to make this work." She sighed and added, sounding teary, "I don't want to lose you."

Cole spun her gently around and looked Phoebe in the eyes. "Do you mean it when you say that you love me?"

"I've already told you so," Phoebe said, a bit amused and a bit irritated. "But yes," she said, her emotions giving way to adoration, "I love you." She smiled as she saw Cole's eyes light up at the words.

"And I love you too. Oh God Phoebe," Cole suddenly exclaimed as he drew her body toward his again. "God knows this was the last thing I was expecting. It's amazing. It truly—" he stopped, as if searching for the right words to express himself. "I mean," he said with a somewhat self-conscious tone, "I was the last one people would ever expect to just—fall head over heels, to find the 'one' they're are always talking about. I never cared for any of that, and now it's like I can barely stand without being next to you. Phoebe, I sound like a bad pop song." He stroked her hair and breathed in the flowery scent of her shampoo. "It's happened so fast I can barely think, I can barely—just—I mean, it defies all logic, the possibility to love someone so quickly. And I do love you," he asserted, "but I can't say that I can wrap the idea around my head completely. Who knew?"

"Not me, that's for sure," Phoebe replied, laughing. She found it slightly amusing that Cole was exclaiming over the quickness of their love. Of course, it was only she who knew that they were married once—but still, she remembered was it was like as fell in love with him for the first time. "I never knew love," she continued, putting her hands on Cole's bare chest. "Looked for it, that's for sure, looked a great deal of places—but I never really expected to find it."

There was a beat of contemplative silence. "You're quite the soldier, aren't you?" Cole said softly, cupping his hand on her cheek. She looked shyly at him and said nothing. "You've been through a lot. I know I can't take everything away, but—" he planted another kiss on her forehead. "I will always be there for you, no matter what happens."

Phoebe smiled a bit sadly at his promise. So like Cole…to promise her the stars, the moon, and a lifetime of forever, and to mean every word as well. In some ways, he was a dreamer as much as she was. Even such a pledge Cole could not keep—the one Phoebe had needed the most, more than trips to France and fairytale romance. She reached up and gave him a light kiss, then leaned in and wrapped her arms tightly around him.

And as she sighed, she was thrown violently into a premonition.


	23. Ignominy

**A/N:** Yes, you are reading correctly. Yes, this is a new chapter. Quite a bit shorter than I had originally planned it to be, but then again, I had planned all of this in May. I hope you still remember this story; I would recommend a bit of reading of my previous chapters so you can refresh your memory. Thanks for all the lovely reviews even while I was away, they seriously made my day and reminded me that I had readers to take care of. Unfortunately, you should not expect another chapter of any story out of me soon; you should know by now how extremely erratic my chapters tend to come out nowadays.

**ENJOY!**

**

* * *

****Love's Intervention  
****_Chapter Twenty Three: Ignominy_**

Cole frowned slightly as he felt Phoebe tense up in his arms. He stroked her hair lightly and pulled away, brow furrowing even deeper when he saw that her eyes were screwed tightly shut, the blood drained away from her face. Her lips were moving, and as Cole bent closer in shock, he realized she was saying something over and over again. "Phoebe?" he breathed, almost afraid to touch her. "Phoe—"

"NO!" she suddenly screamed as her eyes flew open and as stumbled, nearly falling to the ground before Cole caught her out of reflex. She shut her eyes again and shook her head violently, her forehead drilling into Cole's chest. "No, no," Cole heard her gasp out in short breaths.

"Phoebe?" Cole inquired slowly. His voice shook slightly—now he really was scared of what was going on. "What—happened? Are you alright?"

His voice seemed to snap Phoebe out of her trance. She stared up at him, a mixture of fear and—was that suspicion?—swimming in her eyes. "I'm—I'm fine," she stammered, breaking away from him, her voice high and still shaken. "But I've got to go."

Cole stood in his spot, too shocked to move. "You've—wait, what? Phoebe, what's going on? What the _hell_ is _going on_?" Cole yelled as she scampered off of the balcony and into his bedroom. He chased after her, appearing in the doorway of the room even as Phoebe was already putting on her jacket. "Phoebe," he uttered in low voice, his anger and confusion barely kept in check.

Her tone was low as well, almost gravelly, and she spoke with an edge to her voice. "Cole, I told you—"

"You've told me nothing! Phoebe—_what the hell happened in there?_" Cole's voice was loud and furious, but also contained a line of desperation—was she running away from him _again_?

Phoebe's eyes stared at him for what felt like the longest second, then softened as she moved toward Cole, reaching out to gently caress his face. "Cole, don't worry," she said softly. "This time—what I have to do has nothing to do with you." With her words, she stood on her toes to capture Cole's lips in a short but deep kiss. She broke away, gave him a smile, then hurried off to the elevator.

Cole watched her disappear into the elevator as he slowly ran a hand through his hair. He didn't doubt what she told him—if only it was because he noticed her still ashen face, the way her lips had trembled against his not from passion but terror, the way her eyes called out to him when she told him not to worry. It might not have been anything to do with him—but something was still wrong.

Cole ran to the elevator. He was going after her.

* * *

"The pink one."

"OK—_which_ pink one?"

"This one."

Piper threw her hands up in the air. "You spend ten minutes deliberating what color you want to paint your toes and you finally decide on the shade of pink that looks like toe but shinier?"

Prue laughed, hugging her knees to her chest as she giggled at her sister. "That looks like toe?"

Piper snarled. "Oh you know what I mean." She furrowed her brows dangerously as Prue continued to snigger. "That's it. You're gonna get it." Before Prue knew what was going on, Piper had grabbed her foot and an old bottle of puce green nail polish and began inflicting her damage. Prue squealed but Piper tightened her grip.

"Don't move, stupid, or your toes are going to totally mess up."

Prue scrunched up her nose and stuck out her tongue at her younger sister. "_You're _stupid."

"No, you're stupid."

"No, you."

They giggled, and shared a sisterly silence as Piper carefully worked at her sister's nails. "It's too bad Phoebe couldn't be here. We had a lot of fun last night, didn't we?"

"Oh, yeah," Prue agreed eagerly. "It used to be like the old days, you know? Sitting around, eating popcorn, watching movies and giving makeovers, until—well, until—"

"Until Phoebe started dating more boys than you did?" Piper filled in for her, her mouth pursed in amusement.

"_No,_ until we found our own paths as teenagers, which meant that I went one way, and Phoebe—"

"Started dating more boys than you did?" Piper cut in innocently. She grinned. "You know, it must have been pretty embarrassing for you to have your kid sister teach you how to French kiss so Andy wouldn't realize that you weren't as experienced as he—" it was time for Piper's turn to squeal as Prue leaned forward and gave her a good smack with a throw pillow. "Prue!" she cried indignantly.

"Aw, Piper," Prue drew away, acting hurt. "But I love you."

"And I love you, you green-toed big sister, you," Piper teased as the doorbell rang. "Stay here and let your nails dry," she ordered Prue as she got up to answer it, pulling up her hair into a tidier ponytail as she turned into the hall.

She pulled open the heavy door to reveal a man and a woman. "Hi, what can I do for you?" she asked them politely.

"Is this the Halliwells?" the man spat brusquely. Piper raised an eyebrow at him, but the woman accompanying the man quickly laughed and gave him a sharp jab with her elbow. The man frowned and gave the woman a glare as she spoke.

"I'm sorry for my partner's rudeness. What he really wanted to ask was—is this the home of Phoebe Halliwell?"

Piper raised both her eyebrows at this. "Well—no," she told them truthfully. "But if you want, I can tell her that you dropped by—?"

"Oh. Well, someone told us that we might find her here." Was it just Piper's imagination, or was the woman tightening her grip on the man's arm with each second?

"Yes, _well_, she does drop by here sometimes. Now, if I can just get a couple of names, I'll be sure to bring them to her," Piper told them, just stopping the urge to close the door on these people's faces. She had the oddest feeling about the pair…

"Is she _here,_ _now?_" the man asked her, his tone sharp.

Piper blinked at them. "Uh—"

Prue showed up behind her with a guarded smile. "Piper, is everything all right here?" she asked her sister, though keeping her guarded eyes toward the visitors.

The woman grinned, her eyes suddenly maliciously fixed on Prue. "Everything is just fine."

Before the Halliwells could react, the man and the woman pushed their way into the Manor. The man gave Piper a curt nod, causing her to slam into the nearest wall and fall to the ground, unconscious. As two more men filed into the house and stood over Piper, the woman turned to the shaking, eldest Halliwell and gave her a wicked smile.

"The Halliwell sisters!" she announced, slowly approaching Prue even as the Halliwell took steps back. "Oh so formidable, oh so feared by all my brethren."

Prue slowly held out a hand in front of her. "What are you talking about," she said, even as she continued backing up.

The woman let out cackle and Prue swallowed. "But that's the best part, isn't it? You have no idea what's going on. Maybe it's not fair—but I'm not known for playing fair, Phoebe."

Prue started at being called her sister's name as one of the men standing over Piper clicked his tongue. "Cut the damn theatrics, Raisa," he said threateningly. "Where's the third sister?"

The woman turned an eye to him. "Easy, easy, Drashan. No need to get ahead of yourself. Weren't you the one who told me that we have plenty of time?"

Raisa turned her full attention back to Prue. "Phoebe Halliwell," she snarled. "I've heard plenty about you. They've always called you the weakest one, haven't they? I mean, if you think about it, your powers aren't really up to par with that whole 'Charmed Ones' image. I mean, what can levitation—"

"Raisa, _shut_ UP!" Drashan growled, turning sharply away from Piper, who was still lying dazed on the ground.

"Levitation?" Prue asked, her tone strong with just the slightest of quavers. "I don't know what games you people are trying to play with us, but you've got the wrong people."

"Don't talk," Drashan warned Raisa as he stepped up to where the two women were facing off. He turned to Prue. "Don't worry your head. We have the right people. Two of the right people, anyways. But no matter." To Prue's horror, something was forming in his hand—some sort of purplish ball that seemed to crackle with energy. "Two is more than enough to destroy the Power of Three."

"Aw, but what's the fun if you don't face all three of us?"

The intruders all whipped their heads to the source of the voice while Prue spun slowly around, not daring to believe who she thought the voice belonged to.

* * *

Raisa was a patient demon. In part, it was this quality of her nature that made her so successful. After all, a demon did not live to become three hundred or so years old by being hotheaded and careless. Still, a patient demon, as she often told herself and those she was about to kill, was not the same as a tolerant demon. And her tolerance, which had worn through a week of no magic, of dealing with a less-than-competent leader among a million other grievances and annoyances, had been wearing frightfully thin. The seemingly futile mission, however, was finally looking up. Raisa let another vicious grin curl on her face as she gazed at the last Halliwell to arrive at the Manor.

She could afford some time now, to observe this last sister. _What a spectacle_, Raisa laughed to herself. The half tucked in shirt, the crinkled pants and the mussy hair—whoever said that the Halliwell sisters were beauties were hardly correct in their assumptions. The one on the floor, Raisa supposed, though not particularly beautiful, could be considered cute in some sort of way, but the one in front of her; this one was a mess. Her ridiculous clothes made her look like some sort of prepubescent hooker with a heavily stuffed bra. What a picture of desperation; Raisa was almost disappointed that she wasn't twirling her hair and popping her gum.

Of course, Raisa was a bit let down with the one she was cornering before the last Halliwell appeared. She was pretty, yes—she rather liked the haircut the woman's raven locks were styled in, it was a bit like her own—but the timidity she was displaying was not to be expected of Phoebe Halliwell, the woman who was supposed to have tamed the one and only Belthazor.

Raisa felt her anger rising and kept herself in check. As she let out a silent breath, she heard the black-haired Halliwell hiss to her sister: "What are you doing here? Get out!"

"No, I don't think so," the Halliwell with the messy clothes—who Raisa could only guess was Prue—said clearly.

Drashan snarled at her before the other Halliwell could respond. "Well, so much the easier for us," he leered at her. He turned to his companions, fire flickering in his eyes. "How the hell did she get in here?" he spat.

"Back door," the woman Raisa assumed was Prue said casually, her voice nevertheless loud and lilting. "You may want to keep that in mind next time you do something of this sort."

One of the other demons suddenly spoke up. "There won't be a next time—not for you anyways." To punctuate his declaration, he suddenly flung an orange energy ball at the woman Raisa assumed was Prue. Her spectator's delight suddenly turned into astonishment, however, as she watched the woman she assumed to be Prue calmly dodge the energy ball. Her sister, standing several feet away, let out a scream. The four demons, at lost for words, simply gaped at her.

"So this is what you all resort to doing now?" the woman Raisa assumed was Prue inquired almost mockingly. "Four of you, against three helpless, defenseless women?"

Raisa, for some reason she didn't know, looked back at the woman she assumed was Phoebe. She was moving her lips silently, staring disbelievingly at her sister. A strange feeling was rising up in Raisa, one that she almost never felt…she couldn't quite put her finger on it…She stared again at the woman she assumed was Prue, at the way her body leaned against the doorframe, her arms dangled loosely at her sides. In the very back of her mind, she wondered why she and the three of her demonic companions were at a loss of action.

The front door of the Manor suddenly crashed open. Raisa turned her head toward the source of noise, almost as if in a trance, and felt her human heart go still.

She saw the wonder reflected in her companions' faces as it did in her own, and only dimly registered the looks of varying panic and confusion coming from the Halliwells.

The name rolled off of her tongue. "Belthazor."

Behind her, Raisa heard the Halliwell she assumed was Prue yell, for the first time showing signs of distress: "Cole, I told you to stay the hell away!"

The man looked around, taking in the intruders of the Halliwell home. "What's going on here?" An eerie silence met his words. "Phoebe," he repeated, looking straight at the Halliwell Raisa assumed was Prue, "what the hell is going on?"

_No,_ Raisa thought. _It couldn't be…_

"Cole, shut the fuck up!" screamed the raven-haired Halliwell, even as Raisa felt her head spin and took one step forward to steady herself. But by then it was too late. Raisa's gaze was now focused directly on the Halliwell she had previously thought was Prue.

_This_ was Phoebe Halliwell? _This_ was the woman who had brought the short-lived Source to his knees, this little tart was the one weakness that he couldn't do without, the girl with the blonde hair out of a box and a shirt two sizes too small? Regardless of what Raisa told the woman she had incorrectly assumed was Phoebe, Raisa had always believed—along with a perhaps surprisingly large number of her brethren—that the youngest of the original Power of Three had the most power of all. Maybe her given witch powers did not back much power, but as Raisa and more intelligent demons knew, physical power did not define all of a person's strength, especially when Phoebe Halliwell had two sisters to help her along. Raisa had expected someone smoothly composed with the utmost intelligence who radiated a sense of pure authority—what less could be expected of the first Queen of the Source in nearly a millennium? What less could be expected of the wife of one of the most potentially great Sources of all time, who brought her husband and the entire Underworld into chaos single-handedly?

Her words came out slowly, in measured amounts, though Raisa realized that her breath was coming to her erratically. "Worthless." she said. Her voice was cold and angry, yet at the same time had a certain flat, hollow quality to it. "Imposter." She didn't even know if any of the words she was uttering made any sense, if they connected at all.

"Ignominy."

Then, before she even fully realized what she was doing, she rose up her arm and flung an energy ball directly at the Halliwell she now knew was Phoebe.


End file.
